


Sanvean

by thedeadflag



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Drama & Romance, F/F, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:33:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 67,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeadflag/pseuds/thedeadflag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kids at McKinley have gone missing, and the town's spiraled into a panic, instilling a curfew. It only takes a few days for the restrictions to get to Santana, who bucks curfew to go on a late-night run. When she runs into a familiar face in need of help, her world turns upside down. Faberritana friendship (Fapezberry romance later on).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was almost as if nothing had changed, the first week after Rachel Berry went missing. If Santana was to be honest, nearly everyone at McKinley more or less went about their business unaffected by the news of the event. Most didn't seem to notice the pint-sized diva was gone, and of those that did, most didn't care at all. The few that did were predictably in glee club.

Apparently, the girl had been invited to some party one town over by some acquaintance from a summer theatre camp. Never one to deny an invitation to a social event, Berry went, though not without protest; Kurt had advised her to stay away due to some Carmel students apparently being in town for it, the egging incident clearly something the boy considered that Rachel hadn't. Either way, the girl hadn't come home that Friday night or Saturday, and by the time Sunday had rolled around there was a missing person's report filed.

Santana had asked around about the party, but no one had really been able to tell her anything noteworthy, mostly because no one really remembered her being there. It wasn't that she was going out of her mind with worry, but she was pretty concerned. Besides, Santana missed teasing Berry, she missed the girl's singing and dancing, and she knew the diva was the glue that held glee together. Okay, so she wouldn't admit it, but she was pretty damn worried.

Which was more than she could say about some others, really. Mercedes had actually openly hoped short-stack was okay, all while saying she was happy for more solo opportunities in the meantime. Finn was concerned, but figured that maybe she pulled a crazy diva storm-out and just needed time to cool down, or that maybe she was sick and needed time away. Neither of which made sense, because Berry was totes mindful of her dads, and there was no way the girl would put them through that hell. Artie was more or less indifferent, Quinn was silent on the matter, and Britt was worried, but more confused than anything, knowing Rachel loved glee and hated missing it. The blonde had thought that maybe Rachel had met new friends and lost track of time while hanging out with them, and Santana just didn't have the heart to crush her friend's enthusiasm that Berry maybe made new friends. Tina and Mike were the only two who were in the same boat as Santana, floating on the waters of reality; they knew Rachel was punctual, and she'd never miss glee or class unless something big happened to keep her from it. And that just had Santana constantly fighting away realistic, horrible thoughts that the last time she'd ever see the diva was when she'd rolled her eyes at one of her show-tune recommendations. It felt bad, regretful, like a pit in her stomach; it was a feeling she didn't really get, like, ever.

And then another week passed, state police coordinating efforts for more search parties and a more thorough investigation, but it was fruitless; days passed without any progress. Lima's main streets were covered in notices about the girl, and that's when morale started slipping. Puck predictably came to the rescue with a party to help boost people's spirits, one that Santana had wanted to go to in order to dance off her funk, but Brittany was away that weekend with Artie and Quinn was off at some weird church thing, so she held off. She was perfectly aware how drunk she got without anyone to keep tabs on her, and it would have turned her general vicinity into ground-zero for a weep-a-thon. Which totes wasn't cool or good for her rep, so she spent the night inside instead, deciding to have a lazy, home-bound weekend.

It was when she arrived back at school the next Monday that she learned Azimio and Leah, one of her junior Cheerios, had gone missing. Both were much more visible, notable peers, and the school was more or less rife with panicking students, only made worse by the assembly that was called to inform everyone of a nine o'clock city-wide curfew set to kick in that night. It seemed like a pretty arbitrary time, given that the days were growing shorter, and the sun was setting earlier, but she figured it wasn't the worst idea. Three missing students from McKinley DID seem like a pattern of sorts.

It was that weekend when her patience with the curfew officially ran out. Not that Santana usually went out after nine each night, but the sheer knowledge that she couldn't was stifling. Especially given that Britt was away again, and Quinn wasn't answering her phone, leaving her without any entertainment for the night.

She knew she was being foolish, immature, and potentially putting herself in danger, but when she cracked open her front door and stepped out in her running gear, she felt relief. Now, Santana wasn't an idiot, she was aware of the risks, and had opted to not bring her headphones, knowing that it could be useful to hear her surroundings, and that the music was too much of a distraction either way. _And it's not like I'm gonna be out for long…I just need to take a quick run…_

Santana quickly made her way through one of her regular routes, one she'd probably do more often with the changing leaves and everything, as it led into a number of parks. Under normal circumstances, she knew parks weren't the best lit places, and there certainly wasn't anyone around that time of night to hear her if anything went wrong, but all three kids had disappeared deep inside the towns they were taken, in well populated communities. An isolated park just seemed like a slightly safer option, given the context.

However, about an hour into her run, she heard something that gave her pause. Santana was midway through one of her favourite little nature trails when she heard the distinct sound of crying; it was faint, and a little muffled, but she knew that someone was nearby, and maybe in trouble. Her pace slowed to a stop, taking a second or two to ensure that she heard correctly, and that for once in her life she was really considering helping someone. _What if it's someone that, like, escaped? Or maybe they fought off someone and…fuck, people have been going missing, and two people are better than one for protection, right?_

Santana made the decision to walk into a secluded picnic area and toward the noise; the full moon wasn't giving her much help with most of the leaves still on the trees, but it was enough for her to see that the underside of one of the picnic tables was a little darker than the rest.

"Hey…are you alright?" she asked softly, trying to be quiet in case anyone dangerous was around. She couldn't believe her luck, especially since she wasn't sure whether it was good or bad yet, but if she could help someone out, then by all means. _Hell, maybe it's just some lost kid or something, maybe it's not even related…_

The only greeting she received were slightly louder sobs, which only solidified her certainty that someone was under the bench a few feet away from her. Santana slowly crept toward it and knelt to look underneath, thankful that her eyes were attuned to the darkness. She'd been expecting something, even if it was just a vague idea of someone. She hadn't expected to see a violently torn-up and bleeding Rachel Berry, looking like she was a few seconds away from death from some of the wounds and how bloody she was.

Santana wasn't sure how, but she pushed her fear and panic aside and just focused on what needed to be done. "Rachel." She called out quietly, not earning a response by the sobbing diva, whose eyes were closed with fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. She reached out an arm to the wounded girl, gently touching one of the diva's arms wrapped around her stomach, but Rachel just flinched and scooted away, looking terrified and in hellish pain.

"Please, no…no…just please, I can't…please…" Rachel pleaded weakly, her voice sounding as if she hadn't spoken in weeks, which truly could have been the case. Now, Santana had never been Berry's fondest fan, but she was in glee, and like Britt told her after nationals the previous year, glee was family. Santana Lopez understood family.

"I'm here to help, Rachel. I just want to get you somewhere safe, okay?" she asked, certain her eyes were just as wide as Berry's brown ones staring terrified back at her. Knowing the girl didn't have much time left with how she was bleeding, Santana pulled out her cell-phone, quickly putting in the three digits to declare an emergency.

Rachel's voice cried out to her as she pressed the third digit. "Please, no! I can't…can't go to the hospital."

Santana took in the absolute terror in the diva's voice and nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced, given the girl's condition. "Your parents are worried sick, Berry. I'm worried sick, okay? Your dad's a doc in the ER, he could help patch you up, please." She pleaded hastily, knowing it was the first time she'd done so in a very, very long time, but she wasn't about to have Berry die on her. She couldn't even fathom it, so she sure as fuck wasn't going to let it happen.

"I can't. I wouldn't be safe there." The girl stated firmly, and Santana honestly couldn't see a trace of insincerity on the girl's usually very readable face.

It took her a few seconds to formulate any words, because her mind was going crazy trying to think up what options she had. Honestly, she was drawing a blank. "Okay, you look really messed up right now, and you're gonna need help, Berry. If I can't call 9-1-1, then you really need to tell me who can help, please." She was white-knuckle clutching her phone, each forward movement she made to get closer met with an equal scoot away. She'd never seen the diva give up before, she couldn't believe that Rachel would just let herself bleed out, so Santana knew she had to think of something. She knew that her running gear wasn't anything awesome, but it was material, maybe enough to cover up and help dress some of the wounds in the short term.

"Just leave, Santana." The girl's order was strained and sad and entirely unconvincing. It infuriated Santana that the girl would just tell her to leave, as if she was some fucking monster who would do that all willy-nilly.

"Fuck no, Rachel! Not happening, so tell me what happened and how to help, because the Rachel Berry I know wouldn't let herself go out like this!" she grit out, quickly moving to the other side of the table that Berry was closest to, which had Rachel scrambling and slumping over in pain, only crying harder at the attempt to shift away.

Taking the initiative, she reached out and gently brought the girl out from under the table, Rachel's protests barely noticeable as the girl sobbed and shook. Santana had to stifle a sob as she saw the full damage inflicted on the girl. In all honesty, it was baffling that Rachel was still alive, conscious, and hadn't bled out in a matter of seconds from how cut open and bloody she was. _God, I don't think I've ever seen so much blood! Fuck!_

"Stay…stay away from me, Santana, please." Rachel cried out weakly, pressing a shaking hand against the taller girl's chest in a feeble attempt to keep Santana at bay. Santana, of course, swatted the hand away as lightly as she could manage and quickly got to work at pulling her own clothes off, preparing them to dress the diva's wounds.

"I just so happened to break curfew tonight to go for a run, and coincidentally ran into someone I've been hoping would come back to us for weeks. I'm not letting you out of my sight, Rachel, and I'm NOT letting you die, okay? So help me…I need you to help me, Rachel." Her words were hastily spoken and perhaps muffled in spots from her tearing her clothes with her teeth, too intent on keeping the diva alive to focus on much of anything else.

"It's dangerous being here, Santana." Rachel protested, trying to move her leg out of the way as Santana wrapped one of the girl's wounds tightly, quickly tearing off another strip of her workout pants right after.

"No shit! We need to get out of here asap, so just hold still, okay?" Santana felt desperate as she looked at all the damage; she wasn't sure she'd have enough to cover it all, but she'd do her best.

Rachel once again tried to push her away. "I've lost too much blood, you…you need to leave."

Santana shook her head, not at all giving up on the diva. Not yet, not while she was applying her third bandage, hoping that maybe when she was done, she could hoist the girl over her shoulder and just sprint home. "Don't talk like that, you're going to make it. I'm getting you out of here." She bit back sternly, and for the first time that night, Rachel's eyes went dark. Like, fucking dark. Scary dark, and her glare was kind of freaky.

"Leave, Santana." Rachel growled, and if she didn't know that the girl had a crazy voice with a slew of accents and amazing vocal control, she might have been freaked out. It was typical Berry, using her acting skills to try and scare her.

"Nope, fuck you." Santana noted, her chipper, lighthearted tone not exactly seeming to win the diva over. _Well, I guess I did swear at her_ … she mused as she finished hastily dressing another wound.

Rachel growled as she continued her ministrations, and eventually gave a push that had a surprising bit of force behind it, though not enough to topple her. "More are on their way to finish the job, and they'll hurt you if you don't leave now. Please…leave."

Santana lifted her head and listened to the forested area around her; wind was rustling the leaves in the trees and on the ground, but there was a different sound coming from far ahead, something that sounded a little like branches snapping. Which, to Santana, meant footsteps, which meant that she needed to get Rachel out of there.

She gave the girl a good look and, knowing she was already covered in the diva's blood, she grabbed the girl and started lifting her to her feet. Santana wasn't sure what happened next, but the wind got absolutely knocked out of her and she found herself a few feet away from Rachel, who was on one knee, breathing heavily and holding her stomach again, seemingly in a terrible amount of pain. "Leave!" the girl hoarsely forced out, eyes wet with fresh tears.

"Rachel, stop being…" Santana started, but the loud crack of branches and the rustle of bushed brought their attention to a spot across the sitting area where a pretty big motherfucking wolf was, all hunched and predatory looking. Panic surging through her veins, she lunged forward to grab the diva, only to once again be thrown backward. The second time actually hurt, though, and coincided with a loud, rumbling growl from the approaching wolf.

"Santana, please leave, please please just go! Please!" Rachel's pleads were frantic, and her head fucking hurt from Berry somehow tossing her a few feet. She wasn't a stranger to wrestling and roughhousing and shit, but that was more than Puck had done to her.

By the time she got back to her feet, the wolf was growling and stalking past Rachel toward her, the diva's complete attention still locked on her, still pleading for Santana to leave. Three things happened next that she was sure she'd never forget. Santana felt her heart clench so hard that she thought she was having a heart-attack, it literally hurt to consider what few options she had; it was heartbreaking to find Rachel, and have the girl fight her help to the bitter end. Next, her focus and composure shattered, her body descending into her own sobs and tears, because she was damn sure that it was the last time she'd ever see Rachel, and she'd failed her. She had no weapons other than her own tired body, and she was stuck there with Rachel just as helpless as before. And that hurt almost more than anything.

Almost as much as running home while her friend lay dying in her favourite nature trail, at the mercy of a bloodthirsty wolf. Santana made it about a mile before she had to stop, her body expelling everything in a vain attempt of getting rid of her shame and guilt. It wasn't often in her life that she could ever consider herself a coward, but this would go down as her biggest one yet. Rachel had needed her, and she ran. She went back on her word. She was despicable.

When she did get home, Santana quickly locked the doors, rinsed her mouth out, and promptly hid away in bed, wanting desperately to believe if she fell asleep, it'd all be revealed as a dream when she woke. It needed to be a dream.

* * *

It was with great thanks that Santana was startled awake from her dream, its contents not at all pleasant. Rubbing her eyes, she fought away the lingering fear and groggily turned toward her clock, noticing she'd been asleep for a mere hour and twenty minutes. It was a little past midnight either way, so she was pretty sure it'd be a long night, especially when her hand rested against her stomach, only for it to come in contact with dried blood.

Santana cringed, her body shuddering in revolt as the reality of the evening set in again, but a tapping at her window once again drew her focus, much like it drew her out of her troubled slumber. Slowly, she rolled out of her bed, half covering herself in her comforter, wanting to retain the warmth even if sleep didn't seem like an acceptable option right then, or at least one that she deserved. The tapping persisted as she brought her sluggish body across her room to the window, noticing a branch was hitting it. And sure, she wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of sleeping at the moment, but like hell if she was going to put up with that branch for the rest of the school year, tapping away at her window on windy days. Fuck that.

It only took a few seconds to reach the window, Santana flinging the window open with one hand and grabbing the branch with the other. Except, the branch was pretty much way too easy to move around, making it difficult to just apply leverage and snap it off. After two or three tries she looked over to the tree, entirely disgruntled, and saw Rachel perched in it, holding the other end.

A scream erupted from her throat and out her mouth as she staggered back in shock, overwhelmingly freaked the fuck out and more than a little scared. "Fucking Christ, Berry! Are you trying to kill me?! You scared the shit out of me!" She yelled, entirely pissed off over the prank until she realized that it totally wasn't a prank. And that Rachel was still covered in blood. "Wait…WAIT!" she called out as she rushed back to the window, already seeing Rachel scaling down the tree. "Go to my front door!" she called out, but the girl looked to be heading away from the house, not towards it.

Santana allowed herself a frustrated growl and quickly grabbed the keys on her desk before leaping out of her window, her hands catching a hold onto the same, familiar branch she always used whenever she'd sneak out. Within seconds she'd dropped to the ground in a roll and jogged after the limping diva. She didn't even call out after her that time, knowing the girl wasn't listening, so instead she just caught up to her enough to grab one of Berry's hands, and then stood still.

Rachel turned back to face her, looking remorseful and pale and still horrendously hurt. It was nice to see the makeshift bandages still on her; hell, it was nice to see the girl not only alive, but mobile. It was enough of a sign, at least to Santana, that she had a second chance to help the girl out. To make up for her cowardice. "Let me clean you up at least." She requested quietly yet insistently, even if it was a lie. There was no way she would let Berry out of her sight again, not until she was good and healed up.

The diva took a moment to consider the idea before taking a shaky step toward her, Santana quickly moving to the girl's side and offering her body as a support, which Rachel thankfully took. She locked the door behind them once inside and ushered the girl into her main floor washroom, sitting Rachel on the toilet for the time being.

 _Times like these, I'm glad my dad's a doctor…_ she mused, pulling her father's first aid kit out from the cabinet, grabbing as many butterfly stitches as she could find when she opened it. Using scissors, she cut Rachel's clothes off, surprised at how the material only clung to wounds in a few spots. _Could have sworn she was hurt worse than this…but…I mean, I saw what I saw…_

It was enough to give her relief that Berry wasn't going to bleed out on her, but the girl was still seriously wounded, and she couldn't imagine walking around with her whole body just cut up like that. "You looked a lot worse at the park…" she mumbled as she finished checking the diva for wounds, knowing she'd probably need all of the stitches.

"I wasn't…" Rachel whispered, not looking or sounding entirely sincere, but it was probably just the pain and nerves getting to her. The evidence was right in front of her, so the girl must not have been as brutalized as she remembered. _Maybe my mind was just going crazy with panic, and…but fuck, that stomach wound was a lot bigger than this, wasn't it? I mean, it was gaping!...Wasn't it?_

As patiently as she could manage, she cleaned the girl up with a sponge, warm water, and some alcohol wipes. Santana had never been a pro at first aid, and she certainly wasn't thinking all that straight given the circumstances; still, Rachel let her do what she wanted, and she was as gentle as she could manage, given her nerves. It was surprising to not hear a single peep out of the diva during the cleaning and bandaging process, but the occasional glance at the girl's face let her know that Rachel was both awake and alert to every action.

A dark thought crossed her mind as she wondered about their pseudo-conversation on the nature trail; Rachel seemed much too quiet and submissive to let someone she wasn't really even friends with see her and clean her entire body. _She said the hospital wasn't safe…does…are her dads, like, torture porn freaks? Do they hurt Rachel and then clean her up so that no one can tell? Is that why she always wore those sweaters, or leggings some days during heat-waves? I swear, if they hurt her, I'll…_

"Santana, I think you've wrung out the sponge enough." Rachel noted meekly, bringing her away from her thoughts, returning her to reality. One where Rachel needed her.

Sheepishly, she dropped the item and got to her feet from where she was kneeling by the diva's legs. "I'm gonna get you some clothes, okay? And…and maybe after, you can help me understand…this…" Santana noted uncertainly as she gestured to Rachel's body. "…Because you, least of all…oh fuck, you must be in crazy pain, I'll get you some painkillers, I'll…"

"Thank you." The diva said sadly as Santana quickly laid out a few of the strongest pills she had before darting out the room and upstairs to grab the girl some clothes. Her hands found purchase on a cheerios hoodie and some corresponding sweat pants before migrating a few drawers up for some underwear and one of her comfiest sleep shirts. After what was likely a hellacious night, Santana wanted the girl to just be as comfy as she could be, given all the ridiculous wounds she'd suffered. It still hurt to refrain from taking her to the hospital, but she trusted the diva and took her at her word that it wouldn't be safe for her. Santana wasn't about to toy with the girl's safety in any way, especially since the bleeding was under control.

It barely seemed like she'd been away for a second when she found herself back at the door frame of the bathroom, Rachel still on the toilet, looking entirely antsy. She handed the girl the pile of clothes, offering her a small smile because she was happy to see the girl had down the painkillers; Rachel deserved to have a few hours free of pain, Santana figured.

"Do you want some food? I don't have much vegan stuff, but I have some fruit and veggies." She noted, drawing the exact opposite response than she expected, Rachel keeling forward, the sound of a sob and the sight of fresh tears stabbing through the cheerleader's heart. "Christ, I'm sorry, I…I'm just not big on soy or whatever, but I'll get some, alright? I get groceries on Sunday, I can pick up more tomorrow, okay?"

Rachel only shook her head, a pained frown marring her face. "I can't be vegan anymore." The girl moaned, and while it didn't make any sense, she decided to just roll with it.

"Okay, okay. I…I'll think of something, okay? Right now we should get you changed, you must be freezing." Santana tried to will her voice to be as soothing and soft as possible, but it was a bit off; Rachel just breaking down on her brought back flashes from the trail, and that had her shaking a little bit from worry and nerves again.

The only response was a slight nod, and the seven or eight minutes that followed was pure torture, knowing each movement was painful, not only physically but emotionally for the girl. It just seemed so unfair and illogical; Rachel was pretty much the second nicest person at school, maybe in Lima. It didn't make sense that anyone would hurt her so badly and clearly with malicious intent.

Eventually, she gingerly led the girl out of the bathroom, Rachel halting their progress in the middle of the hall as the diva looked back toward the front door. "Santana…thank you for your hospitality but…this was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here." Berry's voice was soft and saturated with all kinds of misery, and it felt horrible that the diva thought it was a mistake to go to her. It wasn't the biggest surprise, because most saw her as a heartless bitch, and she didn't help that perception any by acting like one at school. Santana was fully aware that she probably would have been Berry's last choice, but she still wasn't about to let that sway her into letting Rachel go.

"Just stay a little longer…please?" Santana pleaded quietly, not even needing to act like she was worried and a bit needy because fuck, she'd had a crazy night and she just wanted for it to have a happy ending. Or, at least, something happier than Rachel leaving to potentially get hurt again. "You can totally just…keep everything to yourself, I won't press or whatever. I just need you to stay for a while, okay?" Sure, it was a bit over the top, but she knew it'd get the girl's attention and maybe get her to reconsider.

Rachel was looking at her like she'd grown a second and third head, but the girl's scrutiny stopped mattering when she nodded her head and let Santana lead her into the living room. Gently, she brought the diva to her couch, propping her head on a pillow and covering her with her favourite blanket; it wasn't the perfect place to rest, but it was what was available, given that the bedrooms were all on the second floor.

Once she had Rachel settled in, she plopped down beside her and turned the TV on, nervously flicking through the channels. It wasn't that Berry inherently made her nervous, she was just worried that the girl would want to leave or try to leave, and that she'd never see her again. It was strange how a little perspective got her to realize that if Rachel disappeared, she'd damn well miss her.

"Stop." Rachel called out weakly, forcing Santana to actually pay attention to what channels she was flipping between.

She gave a shrug and got comfortable, more than willing to watch some Buffy reruns. "Didn't take you for someone with good taste, Rachel." Santana let herself smile a bit at being able to tease the girl again, like old times. It was a nice feeling.

The predictable indignant huff from the diva only lifted her spirits higher. "I'll have you know that I have a diverse taste in both television and film, and that I don't just watch Disney, musicals and classic films, Santana."

"So why Buffy?" she asked, wanting to hear the diva's reason for watching some dramatic, campy supernatural stories. It just didn't see Berry's style.

"Because…" Rachel started, her voice suddenly cracking from nervousness. "Because I like shows where even the things that people deem evil can still hold onto some semblance of humanity."

The answer was a bit unexpected, but understandable. Berry had always been a little more mature than the rest of the gleeks in some ways, and despite her fairy-tale ambitions and romantic aspirations, the girl was very aware that the world just wasn't simple. "Outside of McKinley, the world's a lot more grey than black or white." She mumbled, earning a small nod from the diva, the girl's blanketed toes wiggling a bit against Santana's thighs. She wasn't sure what Berry was doing, but she smiled anyway, happy to see the girl already drawn into the show.

Santana knew she wouldn't be getting much of any sleep that night, and Rachel didn't seem tired at all, so she decided a Buffy marathon was an alright idea. It was in the middle of the third episode that she dared to speak again, needing some answers, though knowing her questions could scare the girl off. It was a toss-up, and she favoured taking a risk.

"Are you going back to school?" She asked quietly during a commercial break, the sound of a burger king advertisement the only other noise filling the room. Santana knew that the girl needed time to recover, but she was back, and safe, and the cheerleader wanted to see the girl perform in glee again.

"It's too dangerous." The diva mumbled sadly, shaking her head as she kept her focus on the screen. Berry's words only brought back memories of that wolf, of seeing Rachel brutalized, and she couldn't fight the chill than ran down her spine from it all.

"I know we haven't been friends, exactly, but…I'll keep you safe." She noted, trying not to sound freaked out about whatever danger Rachel was in. It didn't matter anymore, it was irrelevant, because she'd make sure no one hurt the diva. "I'll make sure of it, and I'm sure Britt and Quinn and…"

"Santana…" Rachel's strained voice stilled the words in her throat, forcing her gaze back to the small girl nestled almost completely underneath the blanket. "It wouldn't be safe for the rest of the students."

Santana looked hard at the girl, as if staring would reveal answers to the plethora of questions floating in her mind. "I don't understand."

"It's complicated. I'm…" Rachel started, letting out a sad sigh as she closed her eyes and finally turned her head to face Santana. "I'm being hunted. If…If I go to school, it'll put other people in danger, and I can't. I can't. No one can know I'm here, that I'm alive."

She understood the words coming out of Rachel's mouth, it wasn't like the girl was being unnecessarily verbose, but the message just didn't make any sense. "I don't get it, why would anyone hunt YOU? I mean…you're you, you're not some serial killer or anything."

"Apparently some people are mad that I exist, for reasons I have yet to be told." Rachel mumbled, and that only compounded the ridiculousness of it all, because clearly Berry wasn't lying, so there actually WERE people out there trying to take her out. It made no sense!

Santana grabbed one of her throw pillows, needing to just clutch and knead at something, and her stress-ball was nowhere in sight. "That's so…so STUPID! I mean, you can be annoying at times, you're overbearing, self-centred, a little manipulative, and you may have the fashion sense of a librarian with Benjamin Button syndrome, but that's no fucking reason! You're vegan, you wouldn't hurt a fly…outside of Britt, you're the nicest, sweetest person at school." She ranted, Rachel's wide-eyed gaze thankfully softening after the compliments, because she didn't want the girl to think she thought badly of her or anything. She was annoying, but it didn't take away from the fact that Berry was pretty damn nice and ridiculously patient sometimes. She'd have to be to give her and Quinn second and third and fourth chances.

"It's not that, okay? Just…can we change the topic? The commercial break's nearly over." Rachel asked, biting lightly on her slightly swollen lip. The fact that Berry was asking her to be quiet so they could keep watching the show instead of just wanting to leave was a sign that maybe the girl would stick around. She wanted to ask about the people chasing her, she wanted to know how in the fuck they had wolves as attack dogs, and how Rachel managed to escape. At the same time, she knew that those questions were probably best kept for another day.

Santana nodded and patted the girl's blanket-covered feet. "Alright. But I'm starting to get tired, so after this one or the next one, I'm heading to bed, and so are you, okay?" she asked, drawing a reluctant nod from the diva. "You can take one of the guest bedrooms. They're nice, and you can rest better in there than here."

Once again, Santana felt the girl's feet lightly tapping against her thigh. "I don't want to impose, and your parents will ask questions, and…"

"My papi hasn't been home for more than a few straight hours in months. He usually just sleeps at the hospital, and if he managed to see you when he came home, he'd probably leave even faster." Santana said, feeling a pang of guilt for talking about her father that way, but it wasn't like she was exaggerating or lying. He never wanted to be home, not since she came out to him early that summer.

"What about your mom?" Rachel asked, and even after so many years, she still couldn't help but flinch at the mention of the woman.

"The only person who's going to be home regularly is me, so don't worry about it." She stated, trying not to sound defensive, but that topic always got her emotional, and it wasn't the kind that she liked confronting or dealing with.

Rachel nodded silently as the show returned from its break. The both of them just remained where they were, Rachel's head once again turned to face the screen while Santana idly rubbed the girl's feet. A few commercial breaks later, she failed to stifle a yawn, and that was apparently all the ice-breaker Berry needed.

"Do you have an attic or a crawlspace? Somewhere in the basement?" The girl asked, the request entirely catching Santana off guard. Sure, Berry hadn't seen how awesome the guest room was, but she couldn't imagine any reason why the girl would pass it up in favour of some dark, shitty room.

"We have an attic, but it's mostly just used for storage. Lots of boxes in there, not real comfortable." She noted hesitantly, really hoping that the girl wasn't going to take that option. Her hopes were dashed when the girl shot her a sad smile.

"I'll stay there. Someone might have seen me come here, and it'll be easier to hide away if they come and check." The girl noted nervously, and Santana was sure that Berry was shaking. She could feel the girl's feet again, but they weren't tapping her so much as colliding intermittently.

Santana got up off the couch and knelt over at Rachel's side, knowing that even if the girl couldn't meet her gaze, it wasn't necessary. Berry was terrified, and at least at that moment, more than anything, she wanted to change that. "I'll keep you safe. For as long as you need, okay? You're safe here." She whispered, tucking some of the girl's matted hair behind her ear and out of her face. "No one's going to look for you here."

Rachel smiled an actual, real smile, and it felt kind of great. Mostly because, even if just by a little bit, she helped push that fear away. Knowing she was much too tired to keep watching Buffy, Santana switched the television off and quickly planned out what she needed to do.

Wordlessly, she placed a hand on the girl's back and gently helped Rachel sit up, allowing her to move the blanket around enough to wrap the diva up while keeping the girl's arms free. Berry's eyes never left her as she continued gingerly moving the diva around, who was thankfully not questioning her like she'd expected. When she was happy with her prep, she scooped her arms under Rachel and lifted her up bridal style, Berry's arms quickly wrapping around Santana's neck for support.

They were both silent as Santana ascended to the second floor and, as gracefully as she could manage, opened the door to the attic and rested Rachel down onto a box. "I'll be right back, I promise." She noted hastily, before darting out of the dark, dusty room and into the nearby guest room. As quickly as she could manage, and with strength that she knew was mostly propelled by the urgency of the matter, she hauled the mattress off of the box-spring and started pulling it out of the room and down the hall. It was really fucking heavy and unwieldy, and perhaps she swore loudly a few times when it toppled against the wall and refused to budge an inch. And maybe it took her five or ten minutes to get it where she wanted it.

Eventually, she pushed the mattress into the attic and quickly stacked and rearranged boxes to make just enough room for it. If Rachel insisted on hiding away for her sake, she'd make sure the girl would be as comfortable as possible. Once again she dashed out of the attic and into her own room that time, grabbing her spare comforter, some sheets, pillows, and all of the stuffed animals she and Britt had accumulated over the years. Santana could only be thankful that Britt had insisted the plushies all be together at Santana's, having said they were family and needed to have a home; she just hoped that it could maybe cheer up the wounded girl enough to give her even a decent sleep.

Rachel's amused giggle when she walked into the attic with armfuls of stuffed animals was worth the price of admission, and within a minute, she had the girl's bed all set up. She sent the diva a goofy smile, gesturing to the very populated bed. "Your kingdom awaits you, Rachel."

The girl shook her head, unable to suppress a grin. "Well, it would be poor form to keep my people waiting, wouldn't it?" Rachel asked, this time reaching her arms out in a silent request for Santana's help. Help with she was happy to give, gently getting Berry to her feet, scooping her up and laying her down onto the mattress. Rachel didn't seem to be in much pain as she pulled the blankets up over her with one hand, hugging a large elephant plushie with the other. Sure, Santana knew the girl was pretty comfy in the bed, but it didn't change the damage she'd endured.

Feeling decidedly maternal for one of the few times in her life, she bent down and lightly kissed the diva's forehead. "I'll be in the second room on your right, okay chiclet? Sleep tight."

With the blankets nearly covering Rachel's face, she could only see the girl's eyes widen at the gesture, but they were big, brown and soft and maybe she'd won some points with that. And maybe Rachel felt a little more secure. And as Santana walked sleepily to her bedroom, that's all she really had the energy to hope for.

* * *

Sunday came and went quietly for Rachel. Since they'd gotten to bed so early in the morning, Santana slept most of the day anyway, only managing a meal and a few hours for homework and idle chitchat before succumbing to sleep to ensure she'd be able to get up bright and early Monday morning. The cheerleader had forced her to eat, and had made a delectable looking dish that depressingly didn't taste quite as well as she knew it should have. So Sunday had been quiet, which Rachel generally approved of, because her newest friend of sorts thankfully didn't ask any real questions. And since Rachel changed her own bandages while Santana was busy, the cheerleader didn't check to see how she was healing. At least, she agreed not to check after about a thirty minute argument, but the diva had expected that much from how committed the girl was to making sure she was comfortable and healthy and safe.

Hidden away in the attic that was thankfully windowless, she more or less slept and rested for the daylight hours, explaining it away that if the people hunting her came around, it would be at night, and she wanted to be as prepared as possible. Which, thankfully, Santana bought. Rachel only once heard heavier footsteps throughout the house, which must have been Santana's father; much like the girl had noted, the man was only home for a few minutes before leaving. Which left the two of them alone, something she found both relieving and a little sad. Being alone might not cause loneliness, but she couldn't imagine being alone at home was good for Santana.

It was kind of sweet, if she were to be honest, that the girl had been so accommodating. When she'd encountered Santana at the park, it was all she could do to just restrain herself. Even that had slipped in the end, and had that wolf not scared the girl away, she was sure something horrible would have happened. And even afterward, when she went to see if Santana made it home safely and waffled on asking for the girl's help, it had been a struggle to go along with it all. But she was glad she had, because for a girl who had seemed to truly dislike her throughout most of her years at school, Santana had really made an effort in caring for her. Giving her space and privacy, conceding to her wish to set up in the attic, feeding her, patching her up, it was all kind of sweet how flustered and determined the girl was to make her home a safe place for Rachel. And the cheerleader hauling a whole mattress into the attic, along with sheets and a comforter and pillows and a kingdom of stuffed animals was something she still had a hard time wrapping her head around. _Especially the kiss and the…the nickname…'chiclet'? That was new…and for the first time ever, it was kind of positive, or at least neutral, right?_

All of that at least gave Rachel something to think about, which managed to keep her mind off of her hunger, and the fact that she was feeling weaker by the day. It was easier to ignore when she was sitting in bed with a book in hand, or just thinking about what possible future she had, what regrets she had, and what she needed to do about Santana. It was all such a mess still, and she wasn't even sure where to start planning. _I wish I could just go back in time and not go to that party…I wish I hadn't stopped on my way home to get snacks, and…and I wish that THING hadn't hurt me…_ Rachel thought to herself, unable to repress a sigh at how depressing it all was. There was so much trouble bearing down on her, and she didn't know why. She just wanted it to be gone, or for it all to be over with, and for her to have her Broadway dreams back. _Or my family…I miss them so much, but I know if I tried to visit, they could get hurt and…yet, here I am, putting Santana in danger. Sure, she insisted, but she could DIE. But they haven't found me yet so maybe I'm safe here…at least, until I tell her…_

It was something of a perfect hiding place; given their previous relationship at school, Rachel was pretty sure no one would look for her there. Though, despite how enjoyable the cheerleader's hospitality had been, she knew that she couldn't keep the truth from Santana for much longer. So she slept most of Monday , deciding it was better than being awake and just waiting; it wasn't as if she was tired enough to be truly sleepy, but it was wasteful and tiring being awake when she didn't have to be.

It was around seven in the evening when Rachel woke to the sound of the front door slamming shut. Her ears perked up as she slid out of bed and opened the door, trying to discern who it was. When Santana broke out into song a few seconds later, well, it was relieving; it was good to know the girl was home, and that she was in a good enough mood to be singing for no apparent reason other than simply being happy. Rachel looked back at the alarm clock in her makeshift room and saw she still had about forty five minutes left until she felt truly safe enough to go downstairs. The sun was already setting, but she wanted to play it safe, just in case.

So she sat there, reading an old encyclopedia from Santana's room while she waited, though the suspicious lack of movement and sound downstairs worried her. She couldn't hear the television or the radio or anything, and it had her a little antsy that maybe Santana was being held hostage or something. Sure, it was a long-shot, but it was possible, and it had her quickly shutting the book and tiptoeing down the stairs when the clock hit seven forty eight. Quietly, she moved through the hall and into the kitchen, pausing momentarily at the door frame that led into the living room. Taking a steadying breath, she peeked her head around the corner.

And found Santana zonked out on the couch, her headphones still on and her ipod resting on her chest, the softest of snores emanating from the girl's mouth. She couldn't suppress a giggle at how over-dramatic her thoughts had been, realizing that she should have remembered that Santana had morning and evening Cheerio practices, and that napping for a bit simply made sense.

Though apparently Santana was a light sleeper, Rachel's barely restrained amusement fluttering the tired girl's eyes open into a squint as she scanned the room, pouting with confusion until her eyes met Rachel's. "Oh, hey. I…I thought you were out or something…I guess I got a bit distracted." The girl noted sleepily, yawning and stretching afterward as she sat up and removed her headphones.

"It's okay, I know how comfy that couch can be." Rachel's words seemed to reassure Santana, who looked fondly down at the furniture and patted it; it was still a little weird to think Santana wanted to spend time with her, and wanted her to sit close, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything. Besides, as her guest, it was only polite.

Rachel was just getting comfy against the armrest when Santana let out another yawn and pulled out her phone. "I'm gonna order in tonight. Is there anything you have a craving for?"

She just winced at those words, knowing that yes, she did have a craving, but it wasn't entirely appropriate or something she wished to indulge in. "Not particularly, no."

Santana simply shrugged and wiped at her eyes as she slumped forward a bit. "They…two more kids from school went missing." The cheerleader mumbled sadly, her words causing Rachel's eyes to bulge. _More? TWO more like me? What the heck…maybe that's why I haven't had many pursuers, if they're busy chasing the others…I..._ "It's no one we know, I don't think, but it's still kind of freaky. I mean, how do five kids go missing?"

"Five?!" Rachel blurted out, only just having attempted to get used to the idea that there were two others like her. Four others just seemed a little too much to be a coincidence. "Oh no…I hope they're alright, but…holy moly."

Santana gave her a long look, her dark brown eyes studying Rachel's own rich mocha pair. "Do you know what's happening?" The question was simple, a yes or no answer that she could likely brush off, given how nice Santana had been about giving her space. Still, she knew the truth would need to be told soon enough, and it was probably a good enough time for it. She knew it'd hurt to get too close to anyone, so honesty would keep what was left of her heart safe when she would eventually be told to go her own way. Rachel gave the girl a simple nod in answer.

Santana slowly got up off the couch and knelt in front of where she was sitting, looking up at her with fear and defiance dancing in her eyes. "Are we being hunted too?" Santana's voice was softer than she could have ever imagined as it delivered the question, one that she had to hesitate to answer. In truth, her incident seemed random, but if five from McKinley had been taken, then that was a pattern, and that couldn't be ignored. Seeing the cheerleader desperate for an answer, she bit her lip and nodded.

"You probably are now, I think. Though I can't imagine everyone's survived so far like I have." She answered, her words causing Santana to go rigid in front of her, the girl's jaw set and clenched . The cheerleader took a few moments to digest that, her face a evolving conflict of worry, determination, and confusion, the last of which seemed to win out as Santana gazed back up at her.

"They haven't found any bodies, though." The girl noted as quiet as a mouse, her face contorted with skepticism and perhaps a little hope. Hope that Rachel desperately didn't wish to dash, but she had to tell the truth. She HAD to.

Santana's face fell a little when Rachel let out a sad sigh a bowed her head, her messy bangs keeping either from making eye contact. It was just too hard for her at the moment. "I don't know if it's the same for all cases, but…I'm pretty certain there wouldn't be a body to recover if they didn't want there to be."

"Fuck!" Santana yelled out, quickly pouncing to her feet and pacing around the living room anxiously. She averted her gaze from the cheerleader's worried face and tried to focus on the situation at hand. _Clearly, I'm…I'm just causing her to worry, I'm causing her trouble…_

"If you want, I'll leave. It's okay." She called out, hoping that would appease Santana enough to get her to stop panicking. She knew if she left the girl's home, Santana would most likely be safe from danger. It would be best for everyone.

Rachel had expected some resistance, more or less along the same lines as they'd been encountering since she was taken in. She didn't expect Santana to furiously march over to her and lean into her personal space, the cheerleader's arms blocking her in at both sides as they clutched to top edge of the couch. "It's NOT okay, Berry! I might not like you ninety percent of the time, but you're family! You're staying, period." The girl growled out, Santana's face a mere inch or so from her own. Never before had the girl tried to intimidate her with anything but yelling and threats before, but she could easily admit that the cheerleader was quite frightening when she wanted to be.

Still, she knew she had to do the right thing for the both of them. "Me staying here puts YOU in danger. You could get hurt too, Santana, and you don't need the stress."

The growl Santana let out at that was more than a little unnerving, and for a moment had Rachel wondering exactly which out of the two of them was the beast. "Neither of us are gonna get hurt." The cheerleader grit out before unleashing a long exhaled breath and plopping down beside her, clearly taking a few seconds to calm herself down. Rachel was surprised when she felt Santana's hand prodding her own open, the girl's fingers smoothly lacing with hers and squeezing gently. It was a simple gesture, but an unexpected one, given the girl's usual tendency to withhold affection to anyone whose name wasn't Brittany Susan Pierce. "I just need to know how to keep us both safe, chiclet, okay? Just…just tell me what's going on."

It was one of those refreshing moments where Rachel realized she still had something of her old self left inside of her, as her heart overturned her previous decision. She just couldn't help it; the hand holding, the unyielding support, the soft, tender tone of her voice. It was too hard to say no, and she didn't want to see the dejected look she was increasingly sure would mar Santana's features if she did.

So she stood and gently unlatched her hand from Santana's, giving her a reassuring smile as she did so in hopes to keep the girl from being alarmed. "I'm going to say some things and…and I'll probably sound really stupid or ridiculous or unbelievable, or maybe like some prank...so if you ever just want me to leave, tell me. I'll go immediately, okay?" she asked, drawing a hesitant nod from the clearly concerned girl in front of her. She took a sigh to steady her breath, knowing it'd be the first time she would verbalize her experience. "I went to the party, but it wasn't fun at all, and some Carmel students kept harassing me and abusing me with slurs and spilled their drinks on me not so accidentally. It wasn't fun. So I left, deciding to get some snacks before heading home to watch Funny Girl."

Rachel smiled at the memory of the relief that film had brought her once, how it was always able to cheer her up no matter how miserable of a day she'd endured. She'd been excited to go home, to eat some chips and dip while watching Fanny Brice and Arnstein do their glorious thing. "I left the store with some food, but…I must not have been paying attention on the way back to my car, because I was ambushed by this terribly strong man, and thrown into his van. He…he attacked me."

Santana's face darkened at those words, the girl's hands kneading the couch cushions so roughly that Rachel feared they'd tear, and it really was a lovely couch. She knew that Santana was thinking of something else, something also malicious and horrible, but she promised the truth. "Not…it wasn't sexual. He was hungry. Starving, I suppose."

Rachel watched as Santana's expression went blank, the girl slumping backward against the comfy couch. "He…wait, are you…are you saying some pothead mugged you for some munchies?" The cheerleader asked quizzically, clearly having trouble understanding what the hell to do with the information Rachel had relayed to her. _In hindsight, I probably could have been clearer…_

"No, he…well, he bit my neck and then he drained me of blood. I…I can't remember the whole struggle because I fainted, but... but he cut open his wrist and he tried to get me to drink too. I tried not to, I didn't want to but I was weak, and…I threw a lot of it up but some got in. " Rachel stated quietly, while Santana just sat there with an unreadable expression, her head cocked to the side ever so slightly as she took in every one of the diva's words. At least, Rachel hoped the girl was. "He kicked me out of the van after, and brought me to some forested area by the store, and basically just threw me into a ditch. When I woke up, I was in agony. For hours, I cried out, my body feeling like it was on fire. It was inescapable for so long, and when it finally stopped hurting enough for me to move, I made it back to my car and drove to the old bridge down on Wareham road. It was getting light out, and my instincts kept telling me to find somewhere dark to hide for the rest of…"

Her rambling words caught in her throat as Santana abruptly stood and grabbed her bag. Rachel took in the girl's wide eyes and the fear pooling in them, only made more obvious by the slight quiver in the cheerleader's lower lip. Santana was scared, and even though she hadn't dared to hope, it still felt awful that it was going to end this way. _This is it then…_

"I need to think." The girl breathed out as she fumbled for her car keys, eventually grabbing them and clutching them with white knuckles.

"I'll leave, Santana… it's alright. Just please don't tell anyone, okay?" She answered quickly, knowing that somewhere in her rant, Santana found something believable, and was freaking out over that. It had taken her days to digest that the world was very different than how she thought it was, and knew that the girl really didn't need that kind of stress on her mind, especially with cheerleading and school and everything.

She watched Santana stiffen a little before shaking her head furiously. "No, no fucking way. You're not leaving." Santana spoke, her voice strained and flat as she seemed to struggle getting mere words out. "Even if I'm totes going out of my damn mind right now, you're not leaving. At least, not right now. Just…fuck, just go downstairs, alright? I'll be back in a bit."

Rachel wasn't exactly sure what there was to think about, but she went along with the request anyway, deciding that it was only fair, given what she'd thrust upon Santana. Quietly, she walked out of the living room and found the entrance to the basement, taking the winding stairwell to the bottom. She flicked on the light expecting another storage area, but instead found a workout area with a mat, heavy bag and equipment, a couch with a large television nearby, as well as a small bar nestled in the corner along with a wine cabinet. There was another door on the other end of the room, which probably led to a small storage area, but all in all, the room was quite nice. The very definition of a stereotypical recreation room, if she had to define it.

Not that she felt in the mood for any of that. Not with Santana banishing her to the basement and running off to 'think'. She trusted the girl to not tell anyone about her secret, surprisingly, but it still had her wishing that she wasn't stuck in her current predicament. That she was normal again, and got to know Santana for real, while her own blood pumped in her veins. Feeling more than a little bit crestfallen, she made her way over to the bar and rested her head against the counter, thinking she'd rather endure twenty slushies a day than deal with being a vampire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of felt in the mood for something potentially spooky/supernatural/halloween-themed, and this kind of happened.
> 
> I won't be following any set lore standard, so if you're expecting me to hold to Buffy vampire lore, you'll be a little disappointed. I'll be mixing and matching between Buffy, and Vampire: The Requiem for that, and there will be some WoD and Supernatural influences in here as well as a few original bits. But mostly the duo of Buffy and White Wolf's stuff will be influencing the lore here.
> 
> Anywho, thanks so much for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Santana's mind was absolutely fucked. As she sat in the Wal-Mart parking lot, she couldn't help but think that Rachel's story made no sense, yet managed to perfectly explain everything. Vampires weren't real, they just weren't, and yet, she'd spent what little time they enjoyed that evening trying to see how Rachel was healing, and she seemed perfectly fine. Which made no sense, unless you considered the possibility of fucking vampire healing. The girl was perfectly mobile, never winced or grimaced, and didn't look dazed or like she was on any meds, and those injuries should have taken weeks to heal. So there was that. And then there was Rachel's general sadness and disinterest in the vegan food she'd bought, which made zero sense due to the girl's usual pattern of gushing about how delicious soy shit and vegetables were during lunch over the past years. Which made no sense, unless you considered the possibility of her having weird vampire taste buds that only crave fucking blood! So that was a thing too.

But vampires? Really? Santana knew she was never the luckiest girl in the world, but she really had always wanted to believe those fuckers were as fake as Quinn's nose, because those things had terrified her as a kid. She'd already been scared shitless of the dark when she was young, and she had just begun watching scary undead-themed horror movies a little before her mother had passed away. For years, she couldn't shake the fear of her mother coming back to eat her or whatever, and it all kind of tainted her ability to separate that fantasy from reality until she was twelve or so. Now, Rachel Berry was insinuating she was a damn vampire; sure, the diva didn't say it specifically, but it was clear and it had her freaking out. And not just because she could be a damn vampire, but because there were so many fucking variants in the media and literature that it seemed impossible to know what the hell constituted a vampire. _Can I trust her? Does she have a soul? Do souls even exist? Does she need to feed regularly? Only on humans, or would any blood do? Wait…is that why she kept pushing me away in the park, because she was low on blood and was trying not to feed on me? FUCK that's just another point in the 'Rachel Berry actually IS a vampire' theory…guh…fuckityfuckfuckfuckFUCK!_

It was embarrassing, but Santana was kind of scared. She'd been in fights, she'd skydived, she'd hunted, she'd rock-climbed without a harness, and she'd been shot at with live ammunition by an assault rifle-wielding Sue Sylvester. Vampires shouldn't be, like, way up there on her list of things to be terrified of, but they always had been, and this situation was making it worse. People were disappearing. Rachel was, freakishly enough, what seemed to be a vampire, and apparently there were terrible mythical things out there lurking about. Life just didn't seem nearly as safe as she once thought it was. It legit was freaking her out, and she rarely ever lost her shit, so everything was really a bit overwhelming. And she only had twenty minutes to make a decision before curfew, which only added to her stress.

She kind of wanted to just turn the key in her ignition, drive back home and tell Berry to leave. It would make things so much easier to just pretend none of the past few days had happened, that what she'd been told was some dream. Yet, the thought of Rachel walking out her front door, potentially to her doom, had her opening her car door a walking toward the store instead. Rachel, in some weird twisted way, was family. And Santana Lopez took care of her own.

So she quickly scoured the store for everything she could find that was related, which happened to be a lot thanks to the recent twilight craze. While Santana knew she'd have to do some ordering online that night, she managed to buy a few books about vampires, along with a number of DVDs of supernatural shit that had vampires in them, just as references or whatever. And, of course, snacks; she had a feeling it would be a long, long night, after all.

As she pulled back into her driveway, Santana could see the light emanating from the tiny basement windows, meaning Berry was probably still down there. Which meant she'd actually have to go inside and talk to her about everything, which had her pretty damn nervous.

Pulling out her phone, she quickly opened up a new text message to both Britt and Quinn, figuring it didn't hurt to plan ahead. _'Hey, im not feelin 2 gr8, mite miss skool tmrw'_

Satisfied with her potential out clause for if the night went so well that they researched until the next day, she got out of the car and made her way to her front door. Pushing aside her trepidation, she turned the handle and quietly slipped in, closing the door behind her as she pulled her boots off.

The buzzing of her phone gave her enough temporary relief to just try and be as cool about it all as possible. Santana unlocked her phone to find a new text from Quinn, _'Need someone to keep you company, San?'_

Despite their sometimes troubled friendship, Santana really did kind of love that about the girl; Quinn had grown up in one of the most toxic home environments that she'd ever witnessed, yet still managed to have this side to her that proved she would have been a hell of a mother to Beth. Santana was pretty sure if someone like, say Azimio was in bad shape, Q wouldn't have batted an eye, but if someone she cared for needed help, the blonde would offer it freely. She smiled at the text and tapped out a quick response. _'Thx Q, u kno I'd be up 4 sum dr quinn medicine woman, but my papi actually wants sum 1on1 fam time to fix me up since im trapped.'_

The response was surprisingly quick, her phone buzzing just as she was shoving all her purchases into a large cardboard box. _'Har har, San. So clever, as always. Well let me know. I hope he's finally decided to be a father again'_ Santana sighed at the message, knowing that she really would be kind of hyped if her papi wanted to have anything to do with her again. It'd been difficult since her mom passed, but it had been so long since he'd even smiled at her. Disapproving fathers were yet another thing she and the blonde had in common.

Santana pocketed her phone after sending off a quick thanks to Quinn, feeling as ready as she thought she'd ever be to confront the diva down in the basement. Cautiously and slowly, she made her way down into the basement, her socked feet softly padding across the floor, only briefly hastening as she passed Rachel and slipped in behind the bar. Rachel's curious eyes were on her as she placed the box on the counter and sat down. She'd thought up this whole casual approach upstairs, but her mind just wasn't having any part of it right then, and with Rachel just looking so worried, she couldn't help but feel really damn tense. And after a few seconds, it was just too much.

"You're a vampire." She rushed out, each of the three words blending into the other in a garbled mess. Yet Berry seemed to understand her perfectly, giving her a slow nod that only deepened the pit in her gut. "Okay…" she sighed, taking a moment to compose herself before she began unloading the box's contents onto the long counter; with every few seconds, it became more populated with Buffy DVDs, books on vampires, and notable vampire films.

Rachel watched on, at first curious, then entirely shocked; however, once that passed, the girl's face seemed to fall further with each and every new addition from her haul. And despite being kind of terrified of Rachel now, she did all she could think would bring even a neutral expression back to the diva's face. The small bag of vegan gummi worms impacted square in the middle of Berry's face, sending the jittery, nervous girl off balance, nearly toppling her off the stool and onto the floor. And maybe the mixture of petulant annoyance and surprise on the diva's face made Santana laugh. And maybe when Rachel realized what she'd been hit with, and there was a ghost of a smile on her face, maybe Santana felt some relief. And maybe she smiled for a second or two, because it showed that there was still at least SOME Rachel Berry across the counter from her.

She opened up her own pack of Swedish fish to snack on, knowing she'd probably have a long and potentially tense night ahead. "We've got some research to do, chiclet." She remarked as calmly as she could manage, flipping open some weird paperback encyclopedia of vampires that had been on sale. It wasn't a massive tome, but it was hefty enough that it seemed a reasonable place to start. With a pencil in hand and an extra notebook in front of her, Santana was totes prepped to figure this shit out.

"Are you being serious right now?" she heard Berry ask, and her voice was so meek and uncertain that it forced her attention away from the book. The girl looked positively baffled and wary, so she knew that she'd probably have to do some sort of talking or whatever.

"Look, I'll deny it if you tell anyone, but…I'm kind of freaking out, okay?" She noted, deciding that since Berry had been so honest with her, she could at least admit that. The soft, woeful expression on Rachel's face only pushed more words out of her throat. "But like…I mean, I read somewhere that the only time you can be brave is when you're scared, and fuck if I'm not a badass. So we're going to do this, and I'm gonna keep you safe."

At the conclusion of her sentence, Berry bolted off her stool faster than Santana thought possible, the girl stopping abruptly right in front of her, looking tremendously guilty and nervous. "Can…can I hug you?"

It really honestly sucked. Santana could see the sheer desperation in the girl's big brown eyes, Berry's needy affectionate side presented in all its glory. Not that she had any issue with affection, seeing as Britt was super affectionate, and that was cool, but Santana just didn't trust Rachel a hundred percent quite yet. And yeah, she wasn't like, a prolific hug-giver or anything, but Rachel didn't exactly have anyone else at the moment, so it kind of sucked that she couldn't help. Santana wasn't heartless or anything, after all.

"Maybe later, okay?" She asked warily, hoping that being a little gentler with it all would help, but Rachel's face still crumbled in on itself a bit, tears filling the diva's eyes. "Hey, I'll hug you later, chiclet. I just need to, like, get comfortable with all this shit first, and you have a story to finish telling me. You were hiding out under that bridge, I think?"

Rachel nodded and while Santana was sure the girl was still a bit broken up about it, Rachel always had that ability to push past the pain and compose herself. The gummi worms she was snacking on happily seemed to help too, which was pretty okay too. "After two days hiding there, I decided to go home and grab some of my things while my fathers were at work. I…I couldn't risk them being around me when I wasn't sure about my 'urges'. I was pretty sure that I couldn't just return home as normal…not with having a good idea of what happened." Rachel spoke quietly, leaning forward against the counter, one hand propping her head up as the other idly fed herself with another gummi worm. "It was a mistake. A few blocks away, after I'd gotten some essentials, I was chased from my vehicle into a park by this rather tall man. He knocked me around a little bit, and he…he told me that my birth wasn't sanctioned, that it wasn't my sire's right to give me 'the embrace'."

Santana couldn't help but scoff, because fuck; who thought that vampires would have, like ethics and regulations and shit? "I didn't think vampires would need to ask permission…I mean…who the hell would they ask?" It was a question that Rachel clearly had no answer to, given the look of frustration written on the ever expressive diva's face.

"It certainly confused me. He wanted to take me to some 'prince' for sentencing, but he seemed to take a fair amount of pleasure doling out whatever twisted form of justice he held himself to. It…it didn't seem fair, and it was scary, Santana…I could see the damage he was doing to me, I could see my body gushing with blood, and it was…it was horrendously agonizing, but it didn't hurt nearly so much as I expected. But...I suppose I'd never been hurt so badly before, so perhaps there's a limit to the pain one can feel, or maybe the damage made me delirious." Rachel rambled, the pained glint in her eyes making Santana's hand shake with rage. Berry was right, it wasn't fair. The girl didn't deserve to be hurt, and all Santana wanted to do was hunt the motherfucker down and tear him apart. "I think that I just don't feel as much now, and that's scary. I was screaming from the pain, but I think the normal reaction would be to faint from the blood loss or pain, but I was… rather clear-headed. And it was terrifying…if not for something scaring him off for a few minutes, I'm sure I would have met my end in that park. I managed to elude him for a few days, until the day you found me, where he…he picked up where he left off."

Santana recalled how Rachel looked that night, all bloody and torn and mangled limbs. It was a sight she hoped to never witness again in her lifetime. Not just because it was hard to experience, but also because it would mean the diva across from her would have suffered again, and that simply wasn't okay. As far as she was concerned, if Rachel had done anything to deserve some weird karma event, being turned into a vampire of all things, the brutality Berry had endured had put her in line for something really good. So bad shit? Wasn't gonna happen again.

"I had been hiding out in that nature trail for a few days, trying to figure out what to do, but my brain was a little fuzzy, and I was mostly in a state of continual panic. When he found me again, I did my best to fight him off…he was so much stronger and faster, and I've never seen anyone wield their body so violently as he had. It's dumb luck that he got understandably confident, and began toying with me. He was so malicious… just kicking me around, slapping me, cutting me… torturing me…it gave me an opportunity to stab his heart with my makeshift stake. I…suppose he didn't expect another vampire to do that…" Rachel continued, her voice saturated with emotion, the girl clearly in tune with the events of that night. Santana had to fight to stay in place until the end, knowing that Rachel hated being interrupted more than she liked hugs. And while a hug wouldn't make anything better by any stretch, and Santana knew that she had days of work ahead of her to figure out how best to keep the diva safe, a hug would have to do for now. "So I sat there as he just…started burning away to ash. And when a particularly strong gust of wind blew what was left of him away, I crawled away to the picnic area and under one of the tables. I was terrified and paranoid of just so much. The vampire had told me about some hunters that had been tracking him, and he'd hoped they would have taken me out, and I knew if they were near, I was as good as dead…well…more dead."

It all sounded almost too wild to believe, but Santana didn't really know of any reason why Berry would lie, so she just let herself take it all in. And with the story in her mind and heart, she could only be thankful that Rachel had survived, that she'd fought to stick around. It at least let her know that the diva wanted to stick around, despite how morose she'd been. It was something she'd questioned herself about since their meeting in the park. "What about that wolf? I mean…I know I didn't imagine that thing growling and snapping at me."

"It actually helped me escape. I…I was really, really weak from being hurt so badly, and I used much of the last remnants of my energy keeping you away from me, so I wouldn't…you know. So the wolf just…stood by me and kept nudging me and positioning its neck by my face. I...fed off of it for a few seconds. It was enough so that I could have the strength to move again." Rachel explained, and Santana couldn't really fathom why a wolf would do that right then, so she just decided to focus on something that was easier to discuss.

"Do you need to drink blood, like, regularly or something? Like, once a day, every few days, every week…?" She asked, letting her voice trail off, because she was pretty sure her point was made, and she was being pretty clear in asking about this bloody situation. Pun intended.

Rachel shook her head, the action easing some of the tension that had been building in Santana's chest over the possibility that Rachel could jump her. "I feel the urge, but…I haven't had to. The only time I was feeling desperate was when I'd lost so much, and was just feeling so overwhelmed and unraveled. But I can control myself, I think. And I'll just throw most of it up anyway, if I do drink."

"Because it's wolf's blood?" Santana asked, not sure why Berry would react like that if she was a vampire.

Berry gave an uncharacteristic roll of her eyes and let out a petulant huff at her, which was kind of nice to see; it was like Rachel was still that same frustrating girl from school. "It's because I'm a vegan, and I'm strongly morally and ethically opposed to that sort of thing, Santana." Rachel spoke firmly, her face scrunching in frustration as Santana let out a laugh, unable to keep from expressing her amusement at how typical that was. And it might have given her a little more hope, anyway.

"So why'd the wolf let you feed, anyway? I mean…seriously. I don't get it." She asked, genuinely baffled about why a wolf would do that. It didn't make sense, wolves didn't do anything like that. It would have attacked Rachel instead, she was dead sure of that.

"If vampires are real, maybe…maybe other things are too." Rachel noted softly with a shrug, but the weight of that vocalized thought hit Santana a bit harder, the possibilities of all kinds of supernatural fuckery filling her head like some bullshit shit storm of fangs, full moons and faerie wings.

Santana nodded slowly as she fought to clear her mind and just try to focus on simple things like breathing and speaking. "I think things just got a lot more complicated, chiclet."

* * *

If Rachel was surprised by one thing, it was the loyalty Santana had been showing her all night long. While it was crystal clear that the cheerleader didn't fully trust her, the girl was clearly making an effort in finding ways to help, which is much more than she thought would have happened. In truth, she thought Santana would have returned from 'thinking' with a wooden stake, not research materials and gummi worms. _It's strange to think, but perhaps Santana trusts me, just not my newly awakened vampiric urges…which I suppose is much better than nothing, and completely understandable, in the grand scheme of things…_

Rachel's eyes scanned upward to the clock above the bar, noticing that they had been researching for hours now, it being a little past one in the morning. "Santana?" she called out softly, drawing the girl's attention away from some thick hardcover book. "I truly appreciate your help and support, you don't know what it means to me that I'm not alone anymore. I've been struggling these past few weeks, and to know I have someone watching out for me…I can't thank you enough. But I can ask that you go and get some rest while I continue…you have school early tomorrow morning, and…"

"Not until we have a better idea of what could be out there, what you could be." Santana interrupted with a shake of her head, shifting her focus back to the book she was reading intently.

Rachel quietly sighed and tried to think about how to handle the situation, but she was lost. She'd never been particularly good at negotiating with Santana in the past, and had no idea what the limits were to the cheerleader's stubbornness. "You don't need to do that…you said it yourself, I'm safe here. We have time to research more later on. You should go to school, have a…normal life." She spoke, cringing at how those last two words caught in her throat for an extra half second or so.

However, she watched Santana slowly bookmark her page and close the tome, pushing it aside before slipping off of her stool and to her feet. She smiled in relief that the girl was taking her advice, though it faded when Santana rounded the bar and strolled towards her, stopping about a foot away from where she sat. Rachel watched the girl with curiosity, taking in the slightly furrowed brow, the slightly clenched jaw, the determined glint in her eyes. None of the expressions made any sense until she saw Santana open her arms and gesture her in for a hug.

It was immediately difficult to understand why Santana Lopez of all people was offering her such affection, but she didn't really feel that she could pass it up. Rachel had missed hugs terribly; she used to get one or two sneaky hugs from Brittany on a daily basis, and at least one each from her parents. On her worst, hardest days at school, they were what she looked forward to, they were what helped her deal with all the slushies and insults and dumpster tosses. Rachel was affectionate when given the opportunity, and knowing she'd never get those opportunities back made her heart ache tremendously. She practically melted into Santana's body as her arms wrapped around the girl's waist and clutched the fabric of the Cheerios sweater for dear life, tears of frustration and loss streaming down her face. All her life, she'd never felt she'd been given a fair shake, and that had certainly translated to her undead existence. It wasn't fair, and she finally felt safe enough to grieve her lost dreams, friends, family, and all the simple little aspects of her life that had given her hope. They were all gone, and while she could find new goals and dreams and signs of hope, Rachel knew it would be limited and rare. Her bright light was dimmed now.

To Santana's credit, the girl reacted fairly quickly in reciprocating, her arms helping soothe Rachel's broken heart, if only just a little bit. Slowly, she felt herself being led somewhere as Santana held her close by the waist with one arm, the other holding her head to the cheerleader's shoulder. It was a comforting position that was only made more so when she felt Santana lower the both of them onto the nearby couch. There was just so much pain to release, and it was only compounded by the ever-present urge to feed, her mouth a mere inch from the girl's exposed neck; thankfully, her remaining willpower and the comfort of the embrace was enough to quell that side of her, and let her focus on the small circles Santana was rubbing at the small of her back, and the faintly whispered Spanish words that washed against her ears.

"I can't promise that I'll keep you alive forever, that I'll be able to beat a werewolf in a fist fight, or that I'll be any match for some hunter, but I promise I'll be as prepared as I can be. I'll give you a fighting chance." Santana's words were soft against her ears as the girl held her close, her warmth and promises enough to slow Rachel's sobs momentarily.

"It's your…your senior y…year. Can't do th…this forever." She stammered out between sobs, clutching hard at the girl's sweater, burying her face in Santana's collarbone; she was frustrated with the girl for her promises, even if they made her feel safe. Even if she yearned for such shelter and kindness.

For the second time in a short span of days, Rachel felt her host's lips press against her head for a comforting, fleeting moment. "I was planning on New York, anyway. I'd be up for having a mistress of the night bunking with me." The playful tone nearly masked Rachel's comprehension of the girl's intent, but not quite.

Rachel huffed and lightly smacked Santana's back with one of her hands for calling her a 'mistress of the night'. It was just too tacky for her liking. And with her current status, that city meant nothing to her anymore. "There's nothing for me in New York, Santana."

"Do you like to sing?" Santana retorted quickly, which earned the girl an indignant huff, because of course Rachel liked to sing. Even if it hurt now, it was still her favourite means of expression. "Well don't give up yet, then. You've still got your pipes, so yeah…Broadway might be impossible, it might not. But there's still lounge singing and off-Broadway night plays and everything, and in the winter it gets dark early. You can still have a good life. Your dreams aren't dead yet, Rachel."

And much of what she said was true; there were still plenty of opportunities, but her dreams had always been Broadway, playing in a revival of 'Funny Girl', or perhaps 'Wicked!' or 'Spring Awakening'. She wouldn't be that massive star that she'd dreamed of being, but there were still opportunities for stardom. Just more limited, with restrictions. And even those were hard to put stock in since one brief incident with a stranger robbed her of her dreams. "I'm scared to believe I can still do it." She confided, feeling that she was safe enough where she was to tell the truth and be honest. Rachel didn't want to lie to Santana, not about this.

"Most people are when it comes to what they want the most." Santana noted quietly, Rachel reluctantly relenting as Santana let go of her and ran her small hands down the diva's arms, clasping her hands. "You're cold…can you feel it?" Rachel nodded sadly, because while it wasn't like she was freezing, it was uncomfortable and chilly nonetheless. "Were you warmer after you fed off that wolf?"

Again, Rachel nodded her answer. "Not for long, since I threw most of it up, but there was some residual warmth." She spoke, unsure what the reason for the sudden shift in topic was for. Santana just smiled and gave her an appraising look that kind of made her nervous.

"Can you help me train?" The words stunned Rachel so much that all she could do is gape openly at the girl whose lap she was basically straddling, unsure of how to answer that question. After a few seconds of silence and evasive words, Santana continued. "I'm just…I'll need to be able to protect myself and you if we run into trouble, and I want to at least be able to buy some time. As much as I'm confident in myself when it comes to regular people, everything else is new territory…I've been taking muay thai for years, and I've shot some pistols and rifles before at the range with Quinn, but unless I know what I'm up against and what could help turn the tide, I'll be pretty useless."

Rachel nodded at the explanation, understanding the possible need for some combat training. Still, it wasn't anything that she was personally comfortable with. "I'm more of a pacifist, Santana. I've just fought poorly in self defense before, and I wasn't fond of it, to say the least."

"Have you felt weaker since becoming a vampire?" Santana asked, the question stilling Rachel for a moment before she came to a reasonable guess, nodding her head in confirmation. "If I buy some blood, will you drink a little of it for me? I need to know how it affects you."

Rachel closed her eyes at the mere thought of drinking blood; part of her body craved it, certainly, but the mere idea of ingesting it was revolting. Disgusting. Monstrous. "I'm not exactly keen on the idea, Santana." She mumbled, pulling her hands away from the cheerleader and crossing her arms in protest, feeling uncomfortable with what Santana was asking of her.

"Well I'm not 'keen' on you starving yourself to death, or getting so weak that you can't walk." Santana didn't seem at all perturbed by Rachel pulling away, instead just making use of her freed hands to scoot the diva closer to run a hand through her hair. It was something she felt like she should probably question, but it was nice to be the recipient of affection, so she kept her mouth shut about that. But not about everything.

"I'm vegan, Santana." She answered with a scoff, earning a long, exasperated sigh from her host, who seemed entirely unimpressed with her answer, even if it was entirely reasonable.

"Rachel, chiclet, you're a vampire. I know it sucks, but…you've been eating the food I bought and it doesn't look like it's been helping you. If you need blood…then you need blood. Can you, like…not be vegan one day of the week, just to make sure you stick around?" Santana made SOME sense, she supposed, but that didn't make it any more appealing or comfortable. Truth was, she had been feeling weak since she fed, and when she had been attacked the second time by that vampire, she'd been so exhausted that it had been tremendously difficult to fight back. Distracted by her thoughts and concerns, she didn't notice Santana move closer until the girl's forehead was pressing against hers, dark brown eyes searching into her own. "I'll go to bed, okay? Like you asked? Just can you at least try it once, for me?"

It was clearly a negotiating tactic, and if Rachel was to be honest, it had her off-balance. Santana was so close to her, practically begging her to do this for her in exchange for exercising Rachel's wish that she live a normal life. Rachel knew she probably should have asked for more, but the tactic was too much of a surprise; Santana had never pleaded with her for anything, and it was too surreal to even process properly. So she nodded, earning a bright smile from the cheerleader that she truly didn't wish to go away. "I'll try, but I can't promise much."

Santana just hugged her briefly before gently moving Rachel off her lap so she could stand up. "Well, I guess I'll go crash for the night. I…should be home around seven, since there's a practice tomorrow. We'll rest for a bit after, and maybe practice or research around nine, if that's cool?"

Rachel smiled, wishing she could have back her old school timetable, but at least she wouldn't be stealing that life from Santana. She slowly got up off the couch and pulled the taller girl into another hug, the cheerleader quickly reciprocating it. "Goodnight, Santana." She whispered into Santana's ear, earning a slightly delayed nod as the girl unraveled herself from Rachel's arms. The cheerleader offered an odd, nervous wave before making her way back upstairs, leaving her alone in the basement. It was a strange end to the night, but she was satisfied that at least one of them would lead a regular life. Knowing that she really didn't have a tremendous need to schedule her sleeping hours, Rachel took her time cleaning and packing up the research back into the box, before making her way to her comfy bed in the attic. It was always difficult to sleep, what with feeling so cold, but with her arms around the familiar elephant plushie Santana had given her, she eventually drifted off, hoping for better days.

* * *

Tuesday had not been a good day. Coach called her phone early in the morning for a surprise hour long practice, her history teacher gave the class a pop quiz on what they learned on Monday and on the readings they were supposed to have done for Tuesday, she'd had to spend her lunch hour terrorizing some junior who thought it was okay to insult Britt, Mr. Schue rapped in glee, and Coach ran her practice extra-long after school. All in all, it had been a terrible day, and Santana was happy to finally be walking through the parking lot toward her car, which would take her home to a nice relaxing bath.

"Santana!" She heard called out from behind her, regretfully slowing her steps so that Quinn could catch up to her. Still, she made it to her car before the blonde closed the distance, so she sat on the trunk and cocked a questioning eyebrow, wondering what was up. Her friend hadn't really been all that active in her life across the past few weeks, and it was curious to see the girl making an effort today of all days. Sure, they exchanged texts all the time, but there hadn't really been any phone calls or hang-outs in a long time. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

_Oh, right, I was supposed to be sick last night…_ she recalled as she gave a shrug to the blonde. "Tired. Leave it to coach to ruin the fact that I was feeling better this morning by giving us two hours of extra practice." She snarked, looking back toward the field where Sue was watching Becky douse the flames that had been surrounding the track. _I swear, one day that woman will end up killing one of her cheerleaders…_

"She's miserable like that some days. I think she had a sixth sense and did it just because she knew that you weren't a hundred percent today." Quinn sidled up on the trunk with her and gave Santana a little shoulder nudge. "But you seemed a little tense, too. And since I'm your captain, and friend, I'd check up on you."

Santana was surprised with how quickly she came up with an excuse, considering she wasn't normally so quick-thinking when caught off guard. "Dad hit the bottle about an hour after you texted me, so there's that. And with all the disappearances, who wouldn't be a little on edge?"

She felt Quinn's hand on her leg more than she saw it, her eyes still staring across the parking lot toward the road, cars whizzing by at speeds that would get them seriously fined for speeding in a school zone. Well, if Lima police actually ever pulled anyone over for that. "Is Santana Lopez scared of the bogeyman, now?"

Santana turned her head to face her blonde friend, who was wearing a playful smirk that on most days she'd generally prefer to lightly smack off in some way or another. Today, she was just too tired to come up with anything witty enough to hit back without being too insulting. "Someone's grabbing kids from here, including some pretty big ones, so I'm just kind of hyper-aware or whatever. You know how Britt is…she wanders everywhere, and with how things have been…you know." Santana noted as she shook her head, and it was true, she did worry. Britt worried her tremendously, but her parents had been keeping her indoors most evenings, and rumour is that they promised her a pet duck for Christmas if she stayed inside until this whole thing blew over.

"Brittany will be fine, San. She's pretty good at following instructions as long as they're simple." Quinn said, which was also true, but it didn't change the fact that Britt sometimes got lost in grocery stores, and if she went out after dark, which was a little over an hour before curfew these days, then she could be taken.

Still, she nodded in agreement, figuring she'd just do so in order to cleanly change the subject away from her other blonde friend. "How are you feeling about this whole mess, anyway?"

Quinn's tired sigh was all she really needed to hear from the girl, given how well they knew each other. Quinn once said that she knew how she, Santana and Brittany would move in tandem by tiny facial twitches on San's face, or what direction her eyes flickered, or the positioning of her feet, and it was true. They were a well oiled machine, and if someone played a song, they could figure some choreography out on the fly pretty easily. So loud, expressive gestures like that sigh? The length, loudness, tone and how cut off it was at the end all told her that poor Q was worn out and frustrated. Which was a bit curious, given that blondie never went anywhere anymore except church outings, but whatever.

"My parents are worried, and I've been spending a lot more time being dragged to church groups and everything, but all in all I'm okay." Quinn noted wearily with a half shrug of her own, something that rarely happened, given the girl's traditionally conditioned manners and deportment. "I kind of miss the parties, but that's apparently how people are going missing."

"Well, without my wing-lady, I don't have a reason to go either." Santana said with a laugh, recalling all the pranks she'd managed to get Quinn and Britt to help her with in the past. As prudish and proper as Quinn often was, the girl would get flat out mischievous with a wine cooler in her system, and definitely had a mind for mayhem much like Santana did.

Quinn laughed out, though by the teasing grin on her face, Santana knew it was for a much different reason. "It's for the best…no one wants to see weepy-hysterical Sannie cradling a bottle of tequila, half hidden under the kitchen sink."

And okay, that was totes harsh. Sure, Santana knew that she got pretty emotional when she was drunk; the stuff just leaked out of her sometimes, and it usually leaked from her eyes, so whatever. It wasn't like she was, like, ugly sobbing or anything. Not that she was capable of it, because she was always damn hot or whatever. So Santana pouted and crossed her arms, not at all impressed with what Quinn was insinuating. "I'm not THAT bad…not always…"

Blondie, of course, just kept laughing until she got that shit out of her system, which took a good half minute. Which, really, was totes overkill. "So, are you doing anything tonight?" Quinn asked, and it was arguably the easiest one she'd had to answer all day long.

"If the curfew's good for anything, it's keeping me focused on school. With my dad how he's been since I came out to him…I'm pretty sure I'll need a scholarship. So I'm working on my cheerleading and my grades, hoping to keep as close to 4.0 as possible. I just wish Berry was still around so we could get a nationals trophy too." Santana explained it all as best as she could, mixing a boatload of truth with a little lie in order to hopefully get Quinn to back off for the night. More or less, she knew that if she told the girl she needed some quality rest, Q would tag along and shit for a spa night and sleepover, and Santana figured she had too much to handle at home with Rachel to manage that tonight.

Santana braved a glance back at the blonde, whose lips were curled into a sad smile. "It's weird, but I kind of miss the crazy diva." Santana didn't feel like she'd be able to say anything without tipping Quinn off, so she just gave a shrug, ever so subtly nodding. Quinn would know she felt the same, because she did before she found Rachel. It just felt really strange, though, that she had the singer all to herself now, for better or worse. "So…are you busy tonight?"

The reiterated question broke Santana from her thoughts, forcing a stiff nod from her. "Uh, yeah. I've got a test in three days that I have to ace, and calculus isn't my strongest subject. I'm pretty sure I'll go home, grab a bite to eat, and then study until my eyes bleed or I fall asleep. Whatever comes first."

Santana hoped her spiel was convincing, and thankfully, Quinn seemed to accept it, even if the girl looked oddly disappointed. And yeah, she missed hanging out with the blonde, but she really DID have things to do. "I understand, but we should hang out soon." Quinn noted quietly, slowly getting off the car's trunk and back on the tarmac. It was brief, but she caught a flicker of something that nearly had her putting off her night's plans in favor of spending it with the blonde.

It had been a while since she'd seen the girl so dejected, and it wasn't a good look on her. They'd never been the most emotionally open to each other, always hiding behind masks of snarky words, barbed wit and hidden subtext. She could see the conflict wash across blondie's face directly after at her slip-up, and that sealed the deal. If it was serious enough to mess their dynamic, she'd work with that, because Q was important to her. "We really should, Q. I miss you." she noted honestly, smiling long enough for Quinn to turn her head and see it, Santana enjoying the cocked eyebrow and smirk the blonde was wearing. Her masks were back up, and she was being playful and teasing again, but Q's eyes were funny things in that they changed their colour ever so slightly when the girl was excited, scared, happy, among other emotions. It was faint, but the girl's pupils would dilate ever so slightly, and her irises would get a tiny bit greener when she was happy. And Quinn looked quite content. "I wish I could handle company tonight, but I need to kick this test's ass. It's worth forty percent, and there's no room for mistakes. I'll call you on my study break though, okay?"

"Desperate much, San? But okay… I'll just lay on my bed, freshly showered and glistening, all by my lonesome with my phone beside me, waiting…yearning for your call, to hear your sweet voice, your soft words, promising…" Quinn started, speaking some weird fake southern belle accent to play up the ridiculously cheesy dramatics she was sure to spin up. Sometimes the girl would tease her and go on lengthy monologues about weird ass shit, and sometimes that shit would be vaguely sexual in nature, and if Santana wasn't so sure blondie was straight, she would have done something about it. Instead, she just grinned at the girl's silliness and decided to wait it out. "…promising that you'll take me away in your strong, loving arms, stealing me off into the sunset and away from my earthly restraints and duties… for a dinner at Breadstix Friday evening to celebrate your test being over, and me not having to go to my church group until Saturday morning." Quinn finished, batting her eyelashes comically for good measure. And honestly, dinner at Breadstix was always a good idea, and she had advance notice to clear it with Rachel, so Santana figured it was a good enough plan.

"Careful, blondie. You say that shit in your usual voice one day and I might get ideas." Santana joked, winking at her friend, who was too busy laughing at her own antics to respond in any meaningful way. "But Friday works for me, Q. Sue's got a doctor's appointment for that baby she's trying to spawn, so there's no practice that night, meaning I can pick you up at five?" She asked as Quinn started regaining her composure, the blonde tapping her chin with her finger in mock deliberation.

"Hrm. No conditions or rules for you showing up? Am I getting special treatment now?" Quinn asked sarcastically, narrowing her eyes good-naturedly; yeah, Santana usually had conditions on going to Breadstix with people if it was one on one. It had been her shtick back in sophomore year that she used to fake being straight and play up her rep.

So with that in mind, she just shrugged and slid off the trunk to her feet. "Well, I'd say something like 'be out on your porch at five on Friday, and if I don't find any hotter chicks to date between now and then, I might show up', but let's face it, Q…you're like a moderately distant number two on the Hot Bitches of America list, behind me of course."

"Careful, San. If I wasn't such a good Christian girl immune to lesbian charms, I might take that as more than a platonic compliment." Quinn chuckled, shaking her head in amusement, because they flirted a lot. It happened often enough, at least when no one else was around to hear, and it was always just playful teasing. Plus, it was funny to hear what Q would come up with, or how the blonde would spin her verbal creations. "Anyway, good luck tonight, San. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, she gave the girl a wave and slipped into the driver's seat, quickly making her way out of the parking lot and toward her destination after her brief-yet-entertaining detour. Britt had always been her ball of sunshine and fun, but Quinn kept her mind sharp. Quinn kept her up some nights, just thinking up witty little sentences to jab the blonde with the next day. They were competitive, but never really to the point of losing their friendship entirely; there had been some missteps, but all in all Q was still one of her people, and she was pretty sure Quinn felt the same way.

When she got home, it was as silent as a tomb; it was still light outside, so she knew Rachel would be sleeping. It was good, because the girl seemed to think sleeping preserved her energy, which apparently only blood could re-fill. She'd already planned out a trip to her uncle's friend's workplace to grab a bunch of cow's blood the next evening, figuring she'd bottle it up and keep some in storage. It wasn't human blood, but it was at least a test to see if it would help refresh Rachel's energy. Santana didn't want to leave the girl's blood intake for much longer than Thursday night, having already noticed the girl was starting to get a little sluggish. It was likely that the healing took a lot of energy, and that was what really weakened her. She just really hoped that she wouldn't have to find the diva some human blood.

Deciding to think about something happier, Santana gave herself a nice warm bath before settling down in the living room with a thermos of hot chocolate and her homework. She'd planned on getting it all done by the time Rachel woke, but she heard light footsteps on the floor above just as she was finishing the last page of the short essay she'd been assigned.

So Santana angled herself sideways on the couch, resting her notebook between her legs, writing blindly as she watched the diva creep downstairs, Berry peeking out at her with a shy smile. It sucked that Rachel had to hide away all day, it wasn't exactly something Santana enjoyed thinking about, so she decided to at least try and make the hours she was able to spend with her worthwhile and fun. _Because Rachel is still a kid, like me, and she deserves to relax and have fun. Hell, she deserves a lot more than that…it's fucked up that the girl with the biggest dreams, the one who fought the hardest to make them come true, got permanently fucked over. I mean…I don't know much, and I can't do much, but I want to help her…_ she mused to herself, waving Berry over to her. Initially, she'd figured they'd rest a little before getting back at researching, but Santana just didn't feel like she had the energy to do that, but she always had a plan B.

"You're good at proofreading essays, right chiclet?" She asked, her question widening the diva's smile as the girl approached. "Got a night of movies planned once I get this thing done, and I could use another set of eyes before I grind out a conclusion."

Rachel plopped down beside her and leaned over her to get a better look at the notebook. Santana rolled her eyes and just handed the girl her book with one hand, and pulling the diva to rest against her with the other, deciding it would be easier for the both of them to be able to look at the same time. And maybe there was a nice side-effect of just having someone close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here's the second chapter! Not as dark as the first, though I figured there would need to be a bit of a breather after the last one…kind of give some information, introduce Quinn, and set some things in motion. Things will pick up pretty quickly out of necessity, which will come along in chapter 3 and 4 for certain.
> 
> I took some creative liberties with Quinn here: Mostly because there aren't very many verbal encounters between the two in the show, but they're usually pretty candid with each other, and…if there's such a thing…comfortably tense (in that there's often sexual tension, but they both seem pretty okay with it and not awkward, such as during Schue's non-wedding). So I figured that given the show's more recent canon events across season 4, and how close they were from that scene during natl's at NY through the end of high school, I'd use that as a base. I'm also keeping Quinn on the Cheerios and ignoring the punk phase stuff (at least for now). So much like the rest of the characters, they're not fully designed with the canon in mind…I mean, it's a supernatural themed story, which would automatically eliminate any possibility of canon anyway, so I hope I don't upset anyone. If I do…my apologies, and I hope you still enjoy this. If you don't, I'm thrilled to declare that there are thousands of other quality stories in the glee fandom for you to read. :)
> 
> Anywho, some of my changes (no punk!Quinn, San's mom being dead, etc.) will make sense as the story unfolds. Obviously this story is AU so I'm basically taking some freedoms, using newer canon information to help frame and develop the characters involved.
> 
> Thanks so much for all the support, I hope you're enjoying it! Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Three weeks. It was difficult to believe it had already been that long since Santana had stumbled upon her and ultimately offered up her home as a safe haven, but it had been twenty days since. So not a full three weeks, but nearly that amount of time, which was a constant surprise given that she hadn't expected to live past that fateful night. So ultimately, in the grand scheme of things, she admittedly really shouldn't have had much to complain about lately, but there was always something. Thankfully, nothing major tended to linger in her mind for very long; thinking about her lost dreams was a pain too difficult to ponder about for too long, and Rachel had done well in ensuring she had all the distractions she needed.

In truth, she was simply feeling cooped up and stir crazy for the most part. Well, add on a healthy dose of loneliness, and that would be more accurate, but she had been getting restless lately. Santana had been getting tremendously busy with practices and cheer meets lately, as well as exams, so they hadn't enjoyed much quality time together across the past week and a half. Thankfully, winter break was approaching, but it still was sad that Santana was getting so stressed over everything, and that her presence hadn't been of any help; Rachel knew the girl still wanted to push for more research and more training, but she didn't mind not having to ingest much blood lately. It was easier on her mind and morals, even if it left her a little less energetic. _Okay, a lot less energetic…but it's not like I can go anywhere outside of the house, and Santana's been really busy lately…so no real need for energy._

Blood, she found, did make her feel better physically in a number of ways, though feeling warm was probably the best one. After feeling cold for so long, it was incredibly nice to take the chill off, and when Santana had grazed her later in one training session and noticed her temperature difference, her host and newest friend was quick to finish the session off early so they could just enjoy the warmth on the couch together. Santana had said something about testing whether she could help warm Rachel up if she had some extra blood in her, which Rachel was totally for given her love of affection and the finding that Santana's body heat could indeed warm her up further, if just a tiny bit. It almost made her want to take in more blood on a regular basis. Almost.

There had been other findings too across their research, though most were curious, disheartening, or kind of scary. They had both agreed to figure out her limitations, her abilities, her weaknesses, among other things, but it became clear pretty early on that Santana didn't have much of a heart for it, especially if it involved pain. Having visitation privileges revoked, for example, was both terrifying and terribly painful; her body very much felt like it was slowly erupting from the inside, as if every vein and artery in her body were dormant volcanoes cracking open. Rachel had barely noticed the blood seeping from her mouth, nose, ears and other orifices until she'd heard Santana yelling frantically that she was given permission again, her friend tenderly wiping the tears of blood that had seeped from her eyes. That had not been a fun clean up, and she'd spent most of the rest of the night huddled up with Santana, watching comedy movies in hopes of helping her somewhat traumatized friend cope. It wasn't as if Rachel hadn't been entirely disheartened and upset about the reaction, it was just that she knew it was her reality going forward. There wasn't any escaping it, so she'd have to deal with it, and as Santana was her staunch support system, she'd help her friend cope as well as possible.

Which ended up being more difficult than she'd initially imagined. Less than three weeks in, and the memory of Santana Lopez, bad ass HBIC full of snark, wit, and unshakeable mental fortitude was a distant one. Not that she wasn't aware that those qualities still existed, it was just difficult to recognize them as key components of her personality when the girl would get home from school and worry herself over what experiment Rachel had managed to pull in her absence. With the sun setting so early, she often had a while to tinker around before Santana got home from cheer practice, and because the cheerleader often shied away from some of the more potentially painful research questions they had prepared, Rachel often took the initiative. Which usually aggravated Santana to no end.

And so she'd endured about twenty five seconds of direct sunlight on her arm, which had been fairly scorched and caused enough damage for her to require pain medication for the second time since the initial damage on the night she'd been housed; the first being when she was denied visitation, of course. Other trials hadn't been so horrible, though; garlic simply smelled absolutely awful, and being too close to too much actually had her feeling nauseous and dry heaving. So that was registered as a threat to her if she'd recently ingested blood, but otherwise simply an allergy or a really terrible nuisance. Rachel could cross running water, which she knew from before Santana housed her just like she knew that her reflection was blurred and out of focus, and that she could remain awake during daylight hours for roughly an hour and forty minutes before feeling the pull of sleep, and could wake within a similar time span from sundown. Rachel was pretty certain that she could remain awake for longer if she tried, but felt that knowing natural, generic data was more important. Such as breathing; she hadn't told Santana how she'd tested it, despite the other girl's concerns, but she learned that she simply couldn't be asphyxiated or drowned. Rachel could breathe, but she found that if she focused, she wouldn't ever reach that old familiar breaking point where her body demanded oxygen. Simply, she just ran out. It was yet another disheartening finding.

Another, while cliché and expected, also had a similar effect, when Santana exposed her to a silver Star of David. At a distance, it only caused a sense of unease, but on contact, it burned. Not as badly as sunlight, but it burned, and left a mark that took a while to disappear. The Christian cross did as well, to a lesser degree, but no other symbols had any effect; Rachel hypothesized that it had to do with her soul's prior beliefs. Santana hypothesized that it was bullshit, but was clearly thankful that not ALL religious symbols had that impact on her. It all seemed a bit backward that she could wield stakes of various types of wood, each only causing pain as the tip touched the skin over her heart. Or, at least, the general area around it.

Training with Santana had also revealed a little aside from the knowledge that the cheerleader was certainly a more technically capable combatant than she was. Upon drinking blood, Rachel would sometimes react faster than she ever thought she could, move faster, hit harder. She still almost always lost, and she knew that Santana was still nervous about encountering another vampire due to Rachel admittedly being quite underpowered due to her lack of blood intake, but the cheerleader never brought it up. For that, Rachel was thankful. It was hard enough keeping down the blood Santana gave her every so often; drinking more had her queasy just thinking about it.

Rachel almost reached out to grab one of the gummi worms that Santana had seemed to have bought by the truckload, but decided that she didn't really need it. They served a much better purpose when she was feeling decidedly less than human, when she was in pain, or sad, whereas currently she was just a little nauseous. So she instead focused back on the book she'd been reading and curled up in her corner of the basement couch again; Santana had said she wanted to do some cleaning and organizing upstairs, something Rachel felt was desperately needed considering the girl's room looked like a bombshell went off in there. _And I know she'd just get fussy if I tried to help her organize, so I'll wait patiently…_

It was just shortly after ten when she heard slightly slower, heavier footsteps upstairs, ones that soon made a path down into the basement where she was waiting. Rachel offered Santana a curious smile, wondering exactly what the girl was lugging downstairs in a large taped up box; the last time the cheerleader hauled something heavy downstairs, it was research material, so her interest was piqued. Combine that with the giddy grin on the girl's face, and Rachel knew SOMETHING was up.

So she watched intently as Santana placed the moderately sized box down and pulled something out of it, using her body to shield it from Rachel's gaze. After about fifteen or so extra seconds of rummaging, the cheerleader stepped away, causing the diva's eyes to widen. With her mind racing and full of memories, she nearly let the microphone tossed her way hit her in the face, only barely managing to catch the thing as she dazedly stood up and walked closer. "What are you doing?" she asked, still not entirely sure she was in some dream, or that she was mentally prepared for something like this.

Santana bit her lip and did this weirdly cute little bouncing motion on the balls of her feet out of apparent excitement, her eyes wide and dark and really exuberant. It wasn't a look she would have expected on anyone aside from Brittany, but she supposed that perhaps after so many years around each other, the blonde must have rubbed off on Santana. "I've got all weekend to study, and you've been kind of down lately, so I figured you'd be up for a bit of music therapy."

It was an entirely pleasant gesture, though the thought of singing had her nervous; it was an act that once brought her joy, an act that she used to express herself honestly and openly for her whole life, one that had been tied directly to her dreams. "Santana, you really shouldn't have gone through the effort." She noted with a smile, hoping to let the girl down easy.

Santana, however, wasn't having it, taking the time to turn the karaoke machine on, and then connect it to her display. "You love to sing…I know that hasn't gone away. I mean…you're you."

"I loved it when I knew I'd get to Broadway." She blurted out, internally cursing herself at her lack of filter when she most desperately needed it. As soon as she'd mentioned the 'B-word', Santana was like a shark in blood-infested waters.

Which looked a lot different from McKinley HBIC Santana, because while the girl lacked the fiery demonic glare that terrified the masses, she had a very different yet very effective approach. The weary sigh came first, Rachel knew, and she'd gotten better at not reacting to it, but the closer Santana got to her with that wounded expression on her face, the more she knew that the girl had her number. And when two tanned hands were gently rested on her shoulders, and those deep brown eyes seemed that much bigger and caused her to feel a newly familiar tingle in her gut, she knew she'd eventually give in. "Your life isn't over yet, mariposa. You can still do so much, you can still kick ass on a stage somewhere. Fuck the haters." Santana stated softly and confidently, her eyes urging Rachel to accept her words as fact, something she just had a hard time doing.

"Santana, I'd like to believe…" She started wearily, hoping to not disappoint her friend, but her words just couldn't form once Santana's hands slid up to cup her face. It was pretty much impossible to do anything but wonder whether her breath would have been utterly stolen from the gesture had she been fully human still, because she did indeed find herself in need of taking in air in order to speak further.

"Then believe. Because I believe, Berry." Santana whispered firmly, her forehead lightly resting against Rachel's and that was it. Her eyes shifted to focus on the karaoke machine, and she couldn't help but admit that it was a rather alluring option, even with the knowledge that she might not be able to sing on a stage again. It certainly didn't hurt that she'd never had a chance to duet with Santana, either, and she now had that opportunity.

Rachel let out a long breath and turned her gaze back to Santana's questioning brown eyes. "I…have missed singing, I suppose." She mumbled, giving in to the inevitable, although feeling a little better given what Santana had said.

The cheerleader rubbed Rachel's shoulders and let out a victorious hum. "Of course you've missed it. I remember when you needed music like you needed oxygen. People don't change that much, chiclet." Santana stated as she pulled away and ushered Rachel to the couch so that they could choose some music. And her host was right, once upon a time music was just about as necessary as breathing, but now that she didn't need to breathe, and couldn't be a Broadway star, things had changed. But maybe she hadn't changed so much as a person, as much as her career opportunities had.

"That's true enough, San." She remarked as she started looking for some worthwhile, respectable songs to warm-up with; after her fairly extensive hiatus from singing, Rachel was certain that she couldn't slip into a Celine Dion song and do it justice quite yet.

But as she worked through her first few songs, feeling that familiar rush from performing, Rachel couldn't help but feel that insistent, infectious happiness envelop her. For weeks, she'd held off on singing from worry, but it didn't feel any different, at least the emotionality of it. The breathing was a new thing, given she had lost many of her warning triggers for running out of breath, but it didn't take long to adjust. And as she continued, and finally performed her first duet with Santana, Whitney Houston's wonderful 'So Emotional', she couldn't help but feel like her heart was back in that familiar choir room. That same electricity was filling the basement rec room, and if she closed her eyes, she could imagine and hear the others sitting around the room, singing and cheering along. Even though it wasn't real, Rachel still felt that connection, and she was thrilled that she at least had one other person to share it with. Despite all the trials of the past few weeks, Rachel felt normal again.

She felt normal, and happy, and so full of music. So, really, Rachel felt human.

And while she really, really felt like bursting out in song, no matter what was happening on the screen, it was Santana's turn to sing. Rachel watched Santana scroll through the lists of tracks, eventually settling on 'Nutbush City Limits'; she knew the song well enough, and smiled at how they both kept to a consistently upbeat selection. And her smile only grew when, much like with many of the other songs, Santana kind of just lost herself in the song. It wasn't like Santana was a stranger to glee performances, but the cheerleader had rarely ever sang a solo or even a duet in glee. Instead, she'd join in mid-song in other performances, singing and dancing, so it kind of threw Rachel for a bit of a loop that Santana was very much someone who hadn't joined performances out of peer pressure, but because she felt the music, and she clearly couldn't help herself. It was refreshing to see that someone else expressed themselves through music like she did, and she couldn't help but appreciate the girl's dancing either. Santana was, to put it lightly, somewhat mesmerizing.

So when the doorbell interrupted Santana near the end of the performance, Rachel could only frown and check her watch, concerned and curious as to who would be out so late, given the curfew. _It's nearly midnight! Maybe Santana's father forgot his keys…that could be it…and then we could continue for a few more songs. Tonight…tonight has been wonderful…_

"I'll see who it is. Can you take care of it?" Santana asked with a sad smile, before dashing upstairs as the bell rang once more. Rachel sighed and quickly disconnected the karaoke machine and packed it up, dragging it and her bag of gummi worms into the small storage space before closing the door behind them.

Over the past few weeks, the two of them had crafted a number of emergency routines, most of which involved making it seem as if Santana was living alone. No matter what they were doing in the house, they always ensured that it could be cleaned up and hidden away within a two minute span of time. Rachel couldn't help but feel a little sad about not being able to leave her own personal footprint anywhere but that small storage space and the upstairs attic, but she understood that it was simply risk management.

A second or two later, she heard the door open upstairs and focused in hopes of more clearly hearing the conversation. "Hey, San."

Quinn. Quinn Fabray was at the door for some odd reason, and Rachel couldn't even begin to fathom why. It just seemed a little odd for a teenager to be out so late after curfew, even if it was a Friday night. And even if Quinn was one of Santana's closest friends. It just seemed a little fishy.

"Quinn? The fuck are you…hell, come in, come in." Santana said, clearly as confused as she was, and Rachel could hear the two moving toward the kitchen. "What's gotten into you, Q? Trying to steal my title as the biggest bad ass at McKinley? Because breaking curfew without an audience won't give you that."

"Can't I just visit a friend? Jeez, Santana." Quinn noted with a laugh, Rachel peeking open the storage room door to hear a little better. She knew her hearing was ridiculously excellent now, but things like hard surfaces and walls truly did muffle important things like the clarity of words and inflections.

"Not when you're putting your pasty ass in danger, blondie!" She heard Santana yell out, clearly pretty frustrated, and for good reason. Rachel knew what was out there, and she couldn't get rid of that sinking feeling in her tummy at the thought of Quinn being attacked. The blonde had been through enough already in her life, Rachel knew that any more would just be terribly cruel. She'd already accidentally overheard that Russell was back with the blonde's mother a few weeks ago, which had most likely added further strain in that household; it wasn't any wonder that Quinn sought some friendship. It just seemed a bit odd to seek it at midnight, without a prior phone call.

Quinn's scoff was surprisingly audible, given the distance. "Please, San. Everyone's going missing at the parties, so don't worry. It's not a good look on you." Quinn remarked, and Rachel could clearly imagine the exaggerated eye-roll that very likely accompanied it.

"Whatever, blondie. I'm just saying, you can't be sure that's where people are being taken, so excuse me for showing a little concern. I don't want to get saddled with head Cheerio duties this close to nationals if you get taken by whatever perv is out there." She heard Santana rant, alongside what might have been the fridge opening. For a split second, Rachel hoped that Quinn wouldn't notice the vegan food in there, but then soon realized that she'd already taken it to the basement earlier that evening for a snack before Santana had disappeared. The food didn't really do anything for her, but she liked to participate in meals, it gave her a sense of normalcy.

There was a muffled sound soon after, and she noticed that they'd stopped moving, at least. "No, I'm not hungry, but thanks. And Puck told me that all the people who went missing just vanished the night of a party, after being at that party. Probably means it's some psycho kid." Quinn noted offhandedly, sounding a little bored of the topic. Though Rachel knew if the blonde was aware of everything, she probably wouldn't be so dismissive.

"Yeah, well, just because they were at the party, doesn't mean they were taken there. Puck sends people on snack and beer runs all the time. For all he knows, the person might be lurking around stores or whatever." Santana's argument was clearly based on Rachel's experience, which she appreciated, though she was pretty sure Quinn wouldn't accept the logic.

"And I didn't go to any store on the way here, so seriously…I know you'd hate to never see me shower again, or catch me after some flips, but it's getting a little excessive, San." Quinn's tone was teasing, though with a tone of something that she hadn't really heard from the blonde before. It was somewhat playful, and Rachel couldn't help but be a little confused, given how Quinn was usually neutral, angry, ice-queen frosty, venomously annoyed, or cupcake sweet. Never really playful, per se. It was strangely annoying. "Anyway, how have you been since Monday? We haven't really hung out lately."

There was a brief moment of silence that Rachel could only interpret as Santana's 'shrug-time', a short window of time that tended to happen after people asked the girl questions. She'd seen it in person, and knew well enough that if Santana didn't answer a question right away, she was probably shrugging, or sometimes eye rolling. Rarely, she would do both at the same time. It was all a little funny, if frustrating, because Rachel had previously never really seen much depth in the shrugging motion. For Santana, though, there were a plethora of slightly different shrugs to convey different messages. The diva still didn't have nearly enough of them figured out to feel confident in what each was for, but they all lasted about the same length of time, only making them that much more cryptic and indecipherable.

"I've been fine, just made a mess downstairs this week studying, so I decided to clean it up tonight after I worked out and nearly tripped over some cups and trash." Rachel nodded at Santana's explanation, knowing that the girl actually had made something of a mess downstairs during her study sessions, though usually cleaned up somewhat afterward. It had only taken them five or so minutes to truly make the area clutter and mess free earlier in the evening.

Quinn's laugh emanated through the home, despite the thick walls and floors. "And do you sing every time you clean?"

"Most times, yeah." Santana stated immediately, sounding comfortably indifferent, something Rachel was rather impressed with, given the lie. "Especially when I'm in a good mood and thinking I'll ace my finals."

"Well if you don't need to study, there's still some time left to hang out. Your room?" Quinn asked, and soon after she heard their fading footsteps move up to the second floor, their words turning hazy and then simply not audible.

Rachel decided to use that opportunity to further clean and organize the basement in case Quinn found her way downstairs; the diva was a stickler for detail, after all. It simply wouldn't do to have Santana's cover story be exposed as illegitimate, and the cheerleader simply wasn't the type to neglect her chores from getting caught up in singing.

Once done, she retreated into the small storage space where Santana had set up a cozy little reclining chair for her. After switching the light on and getting comfy under the blankets, Rachel pulled out one of the books Santana lent her, '2666' by Roberto Bolano, which had been interesting so far. With all the time that she spent awake, and Santana spent sleeping, she often wound up with a heavy amount of free time. Reading had never been her favourite hobby, but she'd enjoyed it enough, and it was nice to read stories again and lose herself in other worlds.

It wasn't as nice as losing herself in the basement, singing karaoke with Santana like she'd been doing earlier, but it was something. Still, she really did wish that she'd been able to spend a little more time feeling like a normal teenage girl again.

* * *

Santana was pretty damn tired. She'd been up since six in the morning, and it was a little past midnight already, and knowing Quinn, it would be another forty to sixty minutes before they hit the hay. This wasn't particularly a new thing, and she generally knew the drill. Q wasn't the type to make late night visits to just anyone, for just any reason. Usually, she didn't pry for a plethora of reasons, primarily because the last time she did, Quinn had cut Santana out of her life for the final three or so months of her pregnancy. She'd been the only one who hadn't been given permission to visit Quinn after the ordeal, but at least she'd been able to sneak a peek at the kid before Shelby had adopted her.

So she knew the risks of asking questions. She knew the risks of deviating from the small talk and silent cuddling that the blonde needed every so often. And it wasn't like Santana minded, because she'd do anything for the blonde, but lately, she'd been worried. A little before people started going missing, Russell had moved back into the Fabray home, and that had instantly put Quinn on edge, for good reason. And every weekend since, Quinn had been hauled off to some Christian bible thumper camp thing, which would have just been something she'd tease the girl over if Q didn't come into school every Monday looking exhausted. Combine all that with the girl usually wearing jeans, long sleeve sweaters and occasionally maxi skirts on her free time, as well as their cheerios-issued white turtlenecks that Quinn loathed, and Santana knew something was up, that it was serious. It had been months since Quinn had popped by so late, and she was always happy to help, but this time she needed answers. Especially considering that Quinn usually left early Saturday mornings at the latest for that bible shit, and sleeping over at her house probably meant that it was a no-go that weekend.

"I'm just gonna get ready…why don't you get all set up, okay?" Santana asked, drawing a small nod from the blonde, who was busy appraising her messy bedroom as usual.

It was a bit of a tactical decision, really. The bathroom was between her bedroom and the attic, and if Quinn decided to go exploring for some inexplicable reason, she'd hear. Santana wasn't like Berry used to be, her nightly ritual was fairly short in comparison, and after about twelve or so minutes, she was strolling back into her room; Quinn was already under the covers, the blonde's clothes neatly folded on the computer chair. Soon enough, she'd changed into her usual sleep attire, shut off the lights, and slid in beside her friend.

Already, she knew something was off, given that the blonde was facing away from her. If there was still something that Quinn tended to be instinctual about, it was to never give her back to anyone, so Santana was pretty shocked to see that even when she got settled in, the blonde didn't turn to face her. Deciding to take advantage of the scenario, she cautiously wiggled her way across the space between them and gently draped an arm around Quinn's waist; the action had Quinn tensing up, but she was motivated, working to slip her other arm under the girl. The pained hiss that the blonde let out when her arm pressed faintly against the girl's ribs stilled her attempt.

"Q? What's wrong?" she whispered quietly, not moving any part of her body in hopes of ensuring that she doesn't cause the girl any pain.

"Nothing, I just don't…don't hug me, Santana. Go back to your side." Quinn gritted out firmly, but she knew Quinn. If there was one person in the world that she absolutely knew better than anyone else, she'd probably say it was Quinn, and that wasn't her annoyed, frustrated, emotionally overwhelmed or mentally exhausted tones and sounds. It was clear as day that Quinn was hurt, and the residual pain was affecting her speech, which made sense if the girl's ribs were hurt; ribs protect the lungs, and if breathing hurt, then speaking would be affected.

Carefully, she pulled her arm out from beneath the girl and used it to try and rotate Quinn onto her back, something the blonde gave her a solid smack to the collarbone for, but otherwise refrained from violence. It was dark, and Quinn was, like, ninety five percent covered by her comforter, but she needed to know what hurt. "What happened, Q?"

"Don't, San. Not tonight." Quinn urged darkly, but Santana wasn't having any of the girl's warning. The last time she pressed, it hadn't been about a tremendously important issue, and Quinn was hormonal, so that had been a heavy risk going in. This time around, the blonde was her normal, sober self, and Santana had a good idea what was going on again.

"Q, I can't be your friend if you won't let me." Santana spoke, frustrated with the situation, but forcing herself to be calm; if anything Rachel's presence had helped with that. The diva really did have a gift for keeping most things in perspective, and Santana had more or less found herself focusing on a long-term goal in order to keep cool-headed in such situations.

"A good friend would support me and not push me, San. You know what happened last time." That warning was clearer than the one before, and Quinn sounded entirely serious, so Santana swiftly straddled the girl's waist and sat on her thighs, keeping the blonde grounded. "San…" Quinn growled, which was almost kind of scary, but she knew Q wouldn't really hurt her.

As carefully as she could, Santana pulled the comforter away from them, giving her room to move as Quinn glared at her. "A best friend, Q…" She started, gently rolling the girl's tank top up her torso to expose Quinn's upper body and survey the damage. "A best friend would do anything to keep you safe and free from abuse, Quinn. We both know what happened before." She finished, choking back her emotions as she saw a massive dark bruise all along the left side of the blonde's ribs.

Santana wanted nothing more at that moment than to kill Russell Fabray. She'd dreamed of how it would happen for years now, though they'd been less frequent since Quinn had been disowned initially, and with Russell away. For years, she'd sat by and watched the abuse accumulate on poor Lucy. Lucy, who was " _too fat to be a Fabray_ ". Lucy, who " _looked like Judy's failure of a mother, Harriet_ " because of her brown hair. Lucy, who was practically an 'it', " _for not being womanly like her mother and sister_ " and for thinking she could " _aspire to the greatness of men_ ", all for liking to read and having opinions. Lucy, whose nose made her look " _like a dirty Jew_ ". And so on, and so forth. In that house, Russell was the only one who was allowed to speak words, but Santana was sure that when he doled out punishment, the girls would break. Especially poor Lucy. Her Lucy.

She'd tried. Really, she'd called the police, she'd gotten her parents to try, but nothing ever helped. And Lucy would just show up with more bruises under her sweaters and skirts. Even when Lucy became Quinn, it continued, if less frequently, though Russell tended to make up for it through added force, as a reminder to not get complacent or regress. Quinn had stretch-marks now to match the scars from the belt and other items he'd used; the man rarely broke bone, but from the look of the blonde's current wounds, it seemed he'd maybe passed that milestone with some fractures.

"It's not that bad. I convinced dad I couldn't go to camp tomorrow because too many of the other girls hug, and they'd find out." Quinn whispered sadly, attempting to offer a reassuring smile, but it just looked like a weird grimace. "He and mom will be gone most of tomorrow visiting Frannie, so just…let's get some sleep, okay? I'm tired."

Santana considered it, but ultimately decided to explore a bit, using her hands to feel around the rest of the girl's torso, finding Quinn flinching as her hands lightly rubbed various areas of her back. _He threw her against the wall and probably fractured her ribs from punching or kicking her…yeah, probably a kick, given how deep that bruise looked…_

Wordlessly, she slipped off of Quinn and got her back flat on the mattress before rolling Quinn over to lie mostly on top of her. "This way, your ribs aren't being pressured and neither is your back." She explained softly, drawing a hesitant nod from the blonde. "If he ever hurts you again, I want you to come here, okay? You'll be safe, and I'll…you know. I promised you, you know that."

"San…" Quinn breathed out, taking a moment to get comfy and pull the comforter over them before bringing her eyes back up to meet Santana's dark ones. "San, you know I can't just leave."

Even if it was the truth, it hurt to hear. It hurt to see her close friend battered and bruised, and unwilling to just get the hell out. It hurt that all she could ever offer was moral support and a warm bed to sleep in when the damage was done. "Your reasons had better be worth this, Q." she noted softly, wrapping her arms a little above the girl's hips to have at least some hold on her friend. "It sucks so fucking much, okay? Just…promise me something, alright?"

Quinn was quiet for a few agonizingly long moments, but eventually nodded against her collarbone. Santana knew that she'd already stepped past her usual boundaries of vulnerability, but between the damaged girl in her arms, and the one in the basement that she'd found in the park broken and bleeding, it was hard to keep a hold of everything she was feeling inside. "Promise me that one day you'll be happy, and I won't have to worry anymore."

In all honesty, she knew it was a lot to promise. With Rachel being a vampire, she knew she'd be in for some serious shit going forward, but Santana at least needed to know that Quinn would be free of Lima and her family one day, and would have a chance at loving life again. She needed some hope that what she'd been saying to Rachel, what she'd been helping Brittany aspire to believe, and what she'd been preaching to Quinn would truly happen. Most days, she was strong enough to not let her mind wander to those unanswered dilemmas and unknown futures, but in that bed, holding Quinn, it was just a little too heavy for her faith to handle.

And when long seconds passed into minutes with Quinn still and silent against her, she couldn't help but just try to hold everything in, to keep herself from collapsing as her body shook with barely-caged emotion. But she was silent too as she forced herself as still as possible, her cheeks and eyes as dry as possible, her throat and mouth as noiseless as possible. Even though they both knew better, she'd play it off as a hiccup, or a coughing fit, or even a bad dream or something like that if Quinn ever asked, but she knew the blonde wouldn't. Quinn had requested silence from her, and had learned the cost of it. There was nothing more to say.

* * *

It was fucking cold as hell out in McKinley High's parking lot as Santana waited for the goddamn bus to arrive. They'd been out there for nearly an hour and a half and it was only just getting to be six in the morning; Santana had an idea that this was another of Sue's character-building tests, but she had better things to spend her life on than freezing on a cold December morning. As far as she figured, her crazy coach was lucky they were heading to a state championship, because anything less would have had her going all Lima Heights Adjacent on the woman.

But still, there she stood, breathing hot air into her hands and rubbing them together to try and keep warm. Rachel had tried to get her to bring some damn mittens, but she'd assured the diva that there wouldn't be any point, given that she'd just be making a switch in the parking lot. _Maybe I should listen more to her weirdo sixth sense sometimes, I guess…_ she mused to herself, wishing she was confident enough that her car could handle acting as a furnace, but it had been so long since the battery had been changed, and it was low on gas, and she really didn't know cars well enough to trust that her car wouldn't die on her in the damn parking lot.

It was bad enough that she'd be spending a little over a day away from home, having to deal with a busted up car would have just made it all worse. Still, she'd made sure to go over a plethora of routines with Rachel, quizzing the girl on all the safeguards and plans they'd conjured up over the past weeks in case of an emergency. It was the first time she was leaving for anything near an extended period of time, and she was admittedly a little worried. Santana wasn't the most complex thinker most times, and as far as she was concerned, if she wasn't around to protect the girl, she couldn't keep her promise. It all boiled down to that, really.

Santana also would have felt more confident if Rachel hadn't told her about the increased foot traffic around the house from sundown to sunrise; most of it was on the sidewalk outside, or the unfinished housing development past the backyard, but it was concerning given the curfew and the fact that there was no reason for people to be hanging around like that, or walking by so frequently. Santana hoped it was just some unruly teens, and not vampires or hunters or whatever else was out there, trying to get their stupid hands on Rachel.

It was weird, but she'd gotten pretty close with the weird little hobbit. It had taken some time to realize it, but the girl had taken up a part in her life much like Quinn in that she'd grown familiar with Rachel's diva ways and craziness. With much of that stripped away, Santana found herself missing those parts of the diva, because even if they were a little annoying, they were more endearing and motivating. It was all hard to explain and wrap her head around, but she'd missed Berry when she disappeared, and even now she missed the rambling and wacky over-dramatic antics. So she'd been doing the odd thing every few days whenever she could scrape up the free time, trying to help remind Rachel that she was still a teenager; that she could still let loose and have fun with her hobbies, and just exist for a bit without all the usual worries and stress.

Rachel, at least, seemed to appreciate those moments, even if sometimes they didn't last too long. Just seeing those ridiculously big smiles on the girl's face was nice; they used to happen all the time before the attack, but they were pretty damn rare these days. _And Berry is kind of one of my people now, so I have a duty as a friend or some shit to keep her happy and hopeful. It's, like, a rule or something._

Santana was broken from her thoughts by a light poke to her shoulder; curious, she turned to find Britt standing deep in her personal space wearing her usual goofy, giddy smile. She returned the smile and cocked her head, silently questioning what was up, kind of glad to be interacting with the blonde again. It had been a while since their mutual separation, and she'd needed a bit of space from the bubbly girl before she could feel normal around her again. It had worked, for the most part, but then the disappearances started happening, and she kind of got too busy to truly reconnect with Britt.

The blonde simply gestured with her head to follow her over toward the nearby trees, away from the pack of the Cheerios, so she did, wondering what the girl wanted that demanded privacy, given that Britt was usually very public with anything she said or did. Once they had put a fair bit of distance between themselves and the pack, the blonde spun around and launched herself at Santana, hugging her fiercely.

And it really didn't feel awkward, or sad, or anything less than nice. It was more of a relief than anything, knowing she could receive her former girlfriend's affection and just treat her as a best friend again.

"How've you been, San? I haven't seen you in forever!" Brittany practically squealed as she gave Santana another tight squeeze before stepping back a teensy bit.

She felt that shred of guilt billow up again, but she pushed it back down, knowing that she had legitimate reasons for her recent lack of quality time spent with the blonde. "I'm sorry for not making time, Britt-Britt, I've just been busy, you know? School and everything."

"It's okay, San. I know you have Ms. Wallace for your physics class, and she's like, super mean whenever she fills in as my trigonometry teacher and always crushes the paper ducks I make, and she marks really hard, and she has this really weird lisp. So I like totally understand that, and I know keeping Rachel safe is, like, totes important too." Britt rambled in her usual bubbly tone, and Santana couldn't help but nod and agree that Ms. Wallace really was a stone-cold bitch. The woman was one of the hardest markers in the school, docking marks for trivial things like having messily scribed formulas and symbols, among other stupid things. _God, I can't wait until this semester's over and I won't have to deal with her anymo…wait…waitwaitwaitwait, what did she…Rachel?_

Santana wasn't sure how long her brain was malfunctioning for, her mouth simply sputtering out random hushed syllables in the time it took to really gather her mental faculties and properly process whatever the fuck was going on. It was like a massive punch in the ovaries; for weeks, she'd been running trials with Rachel in case something came up in public, and after hours of training, there she was frozen. Frozen, panicking, and incapable of forming words. The thought of being approached by a hunter or a vampire and having that reaction reveal Rachel's position managed to snap her out of her stupor due to the immense ripple of fear that rushed through her body.

Thankfully, Brittany seemed to notice, and just pulled Santana in for another hug. It wasn't really comforting, but at least she understood the intent, and appreciated it. "It's okay, San. I'm, like, totally Team Rachel in this, and I'm happy you're looking after her. I knew you'd be really good at it."

Santana tried to let Brittany's words sink in, but she couldn't get past the fact that the blonde somehow knew, and that scared the fuck out of her, even if Britt seemed happy and calm about it all.

"Are you…are you fucking serious right now, B?" She breathed out, still trying to calm herself down, knowing that panicking and freaking out was not a very good thing to be doing in that situation. She needed to be composed, and to have a clear head, because if Britt knew, then others might also, and that meant Rachel was in danger.

Almost as if reading her mind, Britt stepped back and gave Santana a sad smile. "Yep. But you need to tell Rachel to get out of the house as soon as the sun's down, because people have totes been scoping out your house all week, and they're probably gonna do something bad while we're gone."

Santana was surprised that instead of freezing once more like she had mere seconds ago, she felt entirely compelled to run to her car and drive home to defend her and Rachel's sanctuary. Or lay some goddamn motherfucking traps for any jackasses who thought they could break into her home without consequence. She could feel the anger building inside of her, her heart beating furiously from both rage and fear, and had to really focus on her long term goal of keeping Rachel safe to keep from exploding into a five foot five ball of fury. _Rachel…gotta focus on how to keep her safe, and if people are coming…if people are breaking in tonight, or this weekend, then she needs to get somewhere safe, because home won't be safe anymore. And…maybe if they don't find her, or any evidence of her, then they won't break in again. So traps…maybe not the best idea. Okay…deep breaths, because Britt's looking at me funny and I should probably say something…_

"What do I need to do? Do I skip cheer? She needs to be safe, Britt, and if it's not at home, then I need to find her somewhere safe. I can't do that in Cleveland. Fuck, Sue's gonna kill me! QUINN's gonna kill me!" Santana rambled as her mind tried to find a solution, building up possible options only to quickly realize they were either impossible or too flawed. It made her feel helpless, and that was something Santana Lopez was NOT comfortable with at all.

Britt, however, shook her head and sneakily linked pinkies with her, a manner of affection that had always managed to soothe Santana, at least a little bit. Enough for her to focus back on the blonde. "No, you have to go to the competition. You will go to the competition. No one…well, it doesn't seem like anyone really suspects you like, super a lot, it's just that your house is really huge and both you and your dad aren't home a lot during daylight hours. That's why people have been checking around when the sun goes down, but not too long after. But maybe they just want to be sure no one's hiding out, I'm not sure. Your house IS really awesome for hide and seek, San." The blonde explained, and it did make sense, even if it was a bit unnerving to hear the girl speak so seriously, at least for the most part.

And it was a bit of a relief that the interest in her home wasn't apparently incredibly serious. She could work with that, and hopefully they'd be able to keep the place safe until graduation. "Rachel doesn't have much of her own stuff, we've made sure of that, so there wouldn't be a trace given a few minutes of advance notice. Even our books we've used for research are hidden away in dusty old boxes…unless someone looks really close, there's nothing to find. All Berry would need to do is move the mattress and our stuffed animals back to the guest room, and do some minor cleaning." Santana noted more to herself in listing off necessary preparations than anything else. It was still dark out, so with a quick text, she could be sure that Rachel would be ready come sundown.

So she pulled out her phone and started typing up a quick message for the girl, knowing that Rachel will probably be annoyed by the lack of notice and ability to use the comfier attic sleeping area, but it was better than nothing. "You've always been a really smart cookie, San. Like, definitely one of those cookies with the gooey chocolate or cream inside, because I'm not sure how that happens, but it probably takes some really smart people." Britt spoke, the familiarity of the girl's oddness making her feel a little more comfortable about the situation. Which, really, still didn't make her comfortable with it, but she wasn't about to blow a gasket. "Oh, and tell her to go to the McDowell Reservoir. My family will bring her somewhere safe for the weekend."

Santana nodded and added Brittany's request at the end before hitting send, feeling like it was all pretty much out of her hands now. People were invading, Rachel was going to have to run away from home again, and she wasn't going to be around to help. It really sucked. Everything was riding on other people's efforts now, and that had her nervous and feeling unsettled, not comfortable with the lack of control. Rachel wasn't just her responsibility now, she was her close friend, and even just knowing that the girl was in danger had her on edge and worrying. _I made a promise…_

"Britt…" She started, not feeling at all happy or comfortable with what she was about to say, because she'd never ever used such a one with the girl before, but it was something that had to be done. Her world had changed drastically over the past few weeks, and even her childhood friendship with Britt wasn't outside of investigation now. "If this is a trick to lure Rachel away and kill her, I…fuck, I can't promise that I won't look for payback. I love your parents…your whole family…but I promised her she'd be safe with me, B. If they hurt her, I'll hurt them."

Britt nodded and playfully swung their linked hands in the air a little. "I know, San. I'll totally explain everything when we get back."

It didn't make her feel a hell of a lot better, given all the questions still aimlessly floating in her head, but she accepted that answer for now. "Good, because I'd really hate to make you sad, Britt, but I'd do it."

"And that's why I know you're good for her." Britt stated happily, her giddy smile back with a vengeance, and while it was a little contagious, Santana's didn't quite meet her eyes.

None of her smiles did that day, not while feeling she'd failed her first test.

* * *

Rachel had left almost immediately when The Weather network stated sundown occurred. The sun was still sending its rays reflecting through the twilight, so her skin stung, but thankfully there would be no physically enduring damage aside from the annoying ache it left for a mere fifteen minutes. And really, what was fifteen minutes when she was probably immortal and could live for all eternity? Time wasn't something she'd quite been able to wrap her head around philosophically since her transformation, and she wasn't sure that such understanding could come without a wealth of experience, sadly. Most of which would likely see her outliving everyone she loved. Not a very pleasant thought.

The trip to the reservoir wasn't tremendously long, but she'd taken some extra time in order to be as sneaky and stealthy as possible, keeping a keen eye, ear and nose on her surroundings for any dangers. The fact that she was being hunted couldn't be any more present in her mind, given the fact that she'd been forced out of her home, however new it was, by potentially the people after her. When Rachel arrived, she couldn't help but admit the tranquility of it all; winter really gave the area a certain peaceful atmosphere, and had her thinking that maybe she'd take Santana out there one night to stargaze or just relax. She couldn't help but smile at the idea, thinking that it would be rather delightful.

After about ten or so minutes of waiting, some noise in the woods to the northeast grabbed her attention, and soon three wolves emerged, slowing from a fair pace to a calm trot before stopping in front of her. All of them shared a similar grey fur coat, with slight differences between them, yet a small trail of white above their left eye and wrapping over and behind their heads brought back memories of the wolf from the nature trail Santana had found her in.

The beasts didn't remain still for long, the lead turning and gesturing towards where they had come from before breaking out into a slow jog, one that she did her best to match, given her generally low energy levels. While the reminder of the wolf from the park was enough to mostly calm her nerves, she tried to remind herself that Santana wouldn't put her in danger, that the girl knew what she was doing. That the wolves would help; how she found out about the wolves was something she was curious about, but she would have time later to interrogate her housemate.

She'd already called the cheerleader, after all, pretending to be her father on the phone. It was their way of ensuring that their text-based communication was truthful, and since Santana didn't use any of the code words, she was about ninety nine percent certain that the girl hadn't been coerced.

After nearly an hour of straight jogging through wilderness, they came upon a clearing with what looked to be a farmhouse atop a slight hill. The four of them progressed towards it until they were within a decent range of the door, where the three wolves slowed to a stop and began shaking and panting.

And before she could really take in what was happening, there were three tremendously nude individuals running for the backdoor of the home and waving her in, yelling out complaints about the cold that she really hadn't caught in her absolute feelings of morbid embarrassment. Which, really, was something of a nice feeling, even if she was shocked and aghast, because it was instinct; it was her human side showing in full force.

It didn't take long for her to reach the house and, deciding that the others were casual about entry, soon she found herself waltzing into a kitchen area filled with mostly dressed, familiar blonde people. People she had met at a glee competition in junior year, who had been so proud of their daughter's dancing abilities.

Rachel wasn't quite sure where Brittany fit into her predicament, but with the kind smiles on her fellow gleek's parents' faces, she couldn't really find it in herself to worry too heavily about it. The Pierces were family to Santana, as far as she was aware, and just knowing that had her feeling about half as safe as she would have been in her new home. As the parental figures offered her a 'snack' and showed her where she'd be spending the weekend, she smiled and did her best to be polite, but all the while couldn't help but wonder how Brittany of all people managed to sniff her out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the third chapter! Things will start to ramp up a bit from here, as more and more people shift into the picture. I know there was a lot to digest in this chapter, but I thought it was for the best to get a lot of it out of the way. I felt the need to really integrate all four girls into the story at this point, to cover vampire lore (or, at least, their current understanding of it through experimentation), and to set the plot ball in motion. 
> 
> Anywho, hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

The cheerleading state championship had gone as expected; The Cheerios had left victorious as usual, with no real competitors in the state of Ohio. It was simply a formality to compete, because everyone else was amateurish in comparison. It wasn't as if it was rude or condescending to believe as much, it was simply true; The Cheerios budget was exponentially larger than the next highest spending school in the state, and none had the steady rate and intensity of practices that Coach Sue ran them through. So ultimately, when Santana was returning from the school's parking lot in her car, with Britt navigating her to somewhere, there wasn't exactly a winner's high rushing through her system. That would happen at nationals.

But Santana was excited for an entirely different reason, two actually; one, she was spending time with Britt, and the other being that they were going to see Rachel. It was odd that she missed the girl as much as she did, despite only having left Friday morning, and it being Saturday evening. One and a half days and she was already missing her vampire houseguest's voice. _Maybe a little pathetic...but eh, I miss her, and she's good company. Besides, we have plans! Like, I'm looking forward to those too..._

Santana wasn't totally sure where Britt was navigating her, but it certainly wasn't anywhere close to one of their familiar routes; still, she was silent as she drove, just taking each of the turns and directions as they came. Britt never led her astray, so she'd go where she was led.

So when she was instructed to pull into a large parking area nearby a field full of tents, lights, ice sculptures and people, Santana wasn't entirely surprised. She knew the girl loved festivals, and the winter one was no exception; while Santana wasn't a huge fan of them, she knew Britt went every year. However, it was pretty damn confusing that the blonde had led her there when she'd been hoping to go visit Rachel.

As soon as Santana found a spot to park, Britt hopped out of the car, skipping around the nearby empty parking spots and trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue. She just shook her head, shut the car down and got out, locking the door just in case they were there for more than a few minutes. "Britt, if you wanted to get some snow-cones and see ice sculptures, you could have just, you know, asked." Santana remarked, leaning against her car. She rolled her eyes good naturedly as the blonde just continued hopping around the car, tongue stuck out into the cold, wintery night air.

Santana just watched her friend bounce around her general area, Brittany eventually stopping about three or four minutes later, giving her a big, goofy grin. "One hundred! Santana, I caught a hundred snowflakes!" the blonde cheered, clapping her gloved hands excitedly before waving Santana over. "Now we can get started!"

She just shrugged her shoulders and followed the blonde across the parking lot, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion as Brittany led her to an old blue minivan instead of the festival entrance. The blonde hopped into the driver's seat, so Santana walked over to the passenger side and got into the chilly vehicle, unsure why she'd been led to a festival if it was only to swap cars. Brittany quickly got the engine running and drove out of the parking lot and further down the county road, the heat thankfully blasting out of the vents.

"Soooo...what was the point of that?" Santana asked, feeling proud for remaining so patient for so long, but she really did need some answers.

"Well, it was snowing, and I really wanted to catch a hundred snowflakes for good luck, you know?" Brittany asked, and Santana honestly didn't know, because she'd never heard anything about a hundred snowflakes being good luck. It seemed kind of arbitrary. "And also, the festival's super crowded this time of year, and there aren't a lot of hunters, so they'd take a really long time to find us out there if they went looking. And they probably will, so we'll have to be kinda quick, sorry."

Almost none of that made any sense to her, so Santana just stared at the blonde as her mind kept processing the new information over again, hoping for some semblance of reason why people would search for them at the festival, and why they had to swap cars. "Uh...can you, like, elaborate a bit? I'm still feeling a little lost on why all that happened."

"Oh! The hunters probably put cameras or other bugs in your car, just like your house...they do that kind of thing a lot, I guess. So it's totes safer to ditch your car for a bit so we can visit Rachel and my family, because if we talked about Rachel in your car, they would have got super suspicious and everything." Brittany explained, sounding a fair bit more serious than she usually did at school or in cheer practice. Santana was glad that the blonde had the foresight to take the initiative and to take the issue seriously, because she couldn't bear it if Rachel was caught and killed. Just the mere thought had her squirming a bit in her seat in worry.

"Jeez, someone's going all out, keeping tabs on me like this. Not cool." Santana noted, sighing loudly as she tried to think up possible solutions to the surveillance. _If my house is full of cameras and microphones and shit, then...fuck, how do I get rid of them without drawing suspicion? I mean, I could scour every inch of my house and get them all, but they'd probably just take more drastic measures, wouldn't they? Shit..._

"It's kind of that group's thing, I guess. They never used to be like that, but they have someone from Tulsa come down sometimes to help them run operations like this. I guess they've been making friends." Brittany stated with a shrug, turning off the county road onto a narrow dirt road that Santana could only imagine was a private road or a really long driveway. Rural area roads had always kind of confused her. "My cousin in Lima PD will help screen your home and remove everything if you want. I mean...Rachel's not a ghost or anything, so she can be seen on camera."

Santana nodded and stewed in her thoughts for a few moments, weighing her options. "Well, true, I guess, but if we get rid of everything...if we do that, won't it be seen as suspicious? I mean, we just so happen to catch their shit the day I get home? Couldn't that, like, escalate things?" Santana asked, stuck on the notion that it would be suspicious to get rid of it all. Hell, if she was the one to pull that kind of job, she'd think it was suspicious. "I mean, thanks for the offer, I'll probably take you up on it, but...fuck. I still can't get over that if you hadn't told me, Rachel probably would have been caught."

"Sannie, don't be too hard on yourself. Rachel's, like, totes resourceful, and I'm sure she could have got out safely unnoticed. Just because you didn't know, doesn't mean you, like, messed up or failed or anything." Brittany noted reassuringly, even if it didn't ease the weight on her heart all that much. It was true that she and Rachel had a grand total of six escape routes, and three of them probably would have gotten Rachel out of the house and in the clear so long as the diva was careful and quiet.

However, it would have left Rachel without a clear hiding spot outside of the nature trail that was one of their preliminary meet-up spots if the diva went on the run. Due to Santana's schedule getting busier, they hadn't planned that far ahead for figuring out more safe areas, and that felt like a severely missed opportunity that could have bit her in the ass. So really, she wasn't sure she hadn't failed Rachel. She just knew that it couldn't happen again. Not with people with pro equipment kitting out her house and everything, not with some wealthy hunter group out there.

She decided to just switch topics, not really wanting to delve further into her inadequacies. "So...how exactly did you find out that I'm housing Rachel, anyway?"

"Oh! I was totes out one night, just running around because it was a nice night outside. Like, you know when it's not too hot or not too cold? Like porridge. Anyway, I was close to the edge of town and I just, like, knew you were close, so I caught up to you and when I did, you were with Rachel." Brittany explained, though how the blonde knew her whereabouts was kind of strange. Especially since Britt lived past the other side of town, out in the country. It made no sense that her friend was in that area that night. "So yeah, I could totes tell that she needed help, and that she was really, really scared, and I knew you couldn't help her...well, I knew Rachie wouldn't want that from you, so I scared you away and made her better. Though she vomited on my feet and that was super gross."

Santana found herself gaping at her blonde friend, trying to reconcile the girl beside her and the memory of what happened out on that nature trail. She'd only seen Rachel and a wolf. A big, pretty damn scary wolf. One that had snapped in her general direction once or twice, and had growled pretty loudly. And bared its teeth. That was very, very hard to forget.

"You...the wolf was...you're a werewolf? That was you?" Santana stammered out, trying to think about how it was possible that her best friend since she was really young was a damn werewolf. It just didn't make much sense. _You'd think there'd be, like, signs or something. Like...Britt's not the best at keeping secrets, she would have given me some kind of hint before now..._

"Yup! I'm normally a lot more cuddly, but I had to be all growly and scary to keep you away and keep Rachie from biting you. That would have been totes sad for everyone." Brittany noted with a tinge of sadness, clearly aware of what vampires can be like when they're desperate given that Rachel bit her and all. _Though I wonder how many she's run into before Rachel...man, my BFF is a werewolf, and my diva's a vampire...I'm just kinda lame in comparison now, but I guess I have the benefit of not having a crazy complex life. Or, well, I HAD the benefit..._

Santana shook her head, cursing under her breath at her luck. It really had been shining on her lately. "Fuck...well, I'm glad you were there for us both that night, B. It means a lot to me."

"No problem, San. You know I'll always look out for you, because you look out for me." Brittany stated casually, as if what she did was on par with Santana helping the blonde with her homework, or getting some jerk in the halls to never insult the girl again if he wanted to have functional testicles. It was actually kind of awesome, knowing she had someone like Britt looking out for her now; it made things a little less stressful, really. And now, not only did she have someone else that she could talk to and hang out with, but so did Rachel, and Santana had a feeling that the diva would be really excited about that.

Since the blonde was busy driving, Santana decided to just pat her friend's thigh in thanks, figuring a hug could wait for later. "You're the best BFF that I could ask for, Britt." She spoke, full of relief that maybe even though she did mess up before, she had someone on her side who could help make sure those mistakes wouldn't be made again.

"I know! Duh." Brittany said between laughs, grinning ear to ear as she continued navigating the vehicle down the dark road that seemingly was leading them into the middle of nowhere. "So how's Rachel doing, anyway?"

"I think she's doing okay...just stressed and lonely, I guess. I know I've been gone way too much lately, so we don't get much time together, and with the nights being longer, she spends a lot of time alone." Santana explained, feeling a little bad for going to the cheerleading competition that weekend instead of staying with the diva, but Britt had told her to go, and she trusted the blonde. Still, it didn't feel good, and she missed the girl. "I try, you know? I try to do things for her, to help her feel normal, like a regular girl...I know she likes that, and it usually helps, but sometimes Quinn pops by after curfew and she has to hide away, and I know that can't feel good."

Britt brought the vehicle to a halt almost jarringly quick, her head turned to face Santana, the blonde's casual grin and easy humour entirely absent from her face. "Quinn visits you? Like, late at night?" Brittany asked, earning a slow nod from Santana, because she just said that; Britt knew that she was Q's go-to girl when she was having trouble. However, it seemed that it set B on edge, which had Santana on edge, because maybe Brittany was just shocked that Quinn was being abused again, but maybe she also knew something about Russell.

The blonde took a few moments to digest the answer before starting the vehicle back up in its slow trek through the great Ohio wilderness. "You need to keep an eye on Q, San."

Santana nodded at that, because of course she would, she had Quinn's back. She'd always have Quinn's back. "I know, but it's Quinn being Quinn. She comes over when she's in trouble. I mean...I'm trying to convince her to just run away from home and stay with me the next time Russell hurts her, but...well, she's stubborn. But I'll keep trying, alright?" She replied confidently, though wishing that she could keep the other blonde from her jackass monster of a father.

"No, I mean...make sure she never leaves your sight when she's over. Never. You have to be totes careful around her, okay? Pinky promise?" Brittany asked, and Santana immediately felt a chill run through her, because the blonde only ever asked her to pinky promise her things if it was really serious, and since Britt hadn't ever removed her hands from the 10-and-2 position while driving after Rachel drilled it into her head last year, it meant it was doubly serious for the girl to remove her hand to seal the deal.

Santana completed the pinky promise, looking worriedly at her best friend, hoping for some clarification. When it didn't come nearly a minute later, she dared another question. "B...is Q like some daywalker vampire? Or demon? Or something really crazy? Because I'm kind of freaking out right now and I could really use some answers, okay?"

"She's not a vampire. Or a demon. Though I've only ever seen one of those, so, like, who knows? But probably not. She's just...she's...just trust me, San. Be super safe, okay? Q's been visiting some people after curfew some nights, but I never caught her going to yours, which is, like, totes impressive or maybe a fluke. Sometimes I get distracted. So just be really careful around her." Her friend answered, though her words provided more questions than closure, really. It was strange for Brittany to say something and make her more confused, given that she spoke Brittnese fluently. And the fact that Brittany sounded a little scared only had Santana that much more worried.

"Britt, is there something you aren't telling me?" Santana asked quietly, trying to stare down her best friend, who had shifted her focus to the road ahead of them. "Because I can't just be in the dark for this stuff, B. I can't rely on you to come to my rescue any time something comes up, and if Quinn could draw the attention of hunters or whatever for showing up so late at night, then I'll work things out, you know?"

The blonde was silent for nearly a minute, the girl's usual expressionless face nearly hiding the tiny eye movements that proved Brittany was deep in thought, a rarity of sorts given how free-spirited and impulsive her best friend usually was. "Yeah...like...totally. Sure. With Quinn coming by so late and everything. Yeah. I don't want hunters to look into you any more than they are, San. So if Quinn totes needs you, don't turn her away because that'd be mean and make her sad. But just...like...don't lose sight of her, ever. She knows you super well, and anything out of place, she'll notice and get curious. If she found out you had Rachel there, I'm totes not sure what would happen."

Santana nodded, understanding the girl's reasoning, though still foggy on how Quinn could be dangerous to her. But it DID make sense to be careful around her because of Rachel. The last thing she wanted to do was potentially lose a friend over it; Quinn was pretty damn religious, and vampires were seen as unholy, so that just wouldn't likely mix any better than oil and water.

"Okay...I'll be careful next time, for sure. So that's it? Nothing I need to know?" She asked again, feeling that her bestie was holding something back, which had her stomach in knots. Still, she wasn't going to interrogate Britt harshly or anything, knowing how sensitive the blonde was. _If there was anything important to know, Britt would tell me, anyway...she wouldn't keep any secrets that could hurt me._

"No, I think that's it. Other than that you should be feeding Rachel at least once a week, from what I remember." The blonde added, which seemed like a reasonable suggestion, and one that had generally been followed already given the loose schedule she and Rachel had worked out. "Has she ever drank a lot of blood before, San?"

Santana shook her head silently, recalling all the times she had fed Rachel, and how each went down. "She never drinks all that much, and usually spits or vomits up half of it. She has a hard time keeping it down, which is weird, because I thought she didn't have a gag reflex." She answered, shrugging as she pondered how it was at all possible Rachel vomited without a gag reflex if not by will. Which, really, was a possibility, considering the girl's opposition to blood, being a vegan and all.

Britt hummed in response as they neared a smallish farmhouse just a bit up the road. "Okay. You should try to give her a teensy bit more, because my parents said she looked really weak and tired. It'll, like, get her closer to a normal bouncy crazy energy she used to have, and then you can ease up a bit to keep her even. 'Cuz, like, her body uses blood for energy, right? So if she's at 50 HP using, like, 10HP, it's not a big drop. But if she's at 15HP and using 10HP, it's totes not good. So you wanna get her up to 25HP at least." The blonde rambled as she pulled the vehicle to a stop beside the house, her strange measurements likely influenced by Artie and his videogames. Honestly, some of it made less sense than other parts, but the gist was that Rachel was too low and was dipping to dangerous levels, where if she had a bit more blood to start with, she wouldn't get so tired and everything.

"Anyway, San, my parents are having a family get together thingy, and they're usually really boring, so we'll be in and out quick." Britt added with a smile, though Santana could hardly feel pleased about the reminder that she wouldn't be taking Rachel back to her place. It wasn't that she didn't trust Brittany's family to take care of the diva, it was just that she kinda missed the chiclet.

"You sure Rachel can't come back?" Santana asked, hoping that maybe the blonde changed her mind, despite the knowledge that bringing the diva back would likely be a bad idea, what with the cameras and everything scattered around her home.

Brittany responded by putting the vehicle into park and leaning over to give her a hug. "I'm sorry, San. But I'm sure she'll be happy to see you."

* * *

Rachel began her slip into consciousness with the familiar complex scent of cinnamon, orange, amber and cloves, the warmth of which preceded the soft hand that gently rested on her shoulder, further stirring her awake. It was the familiar content hum, however, which insisted that her eyes flutter open.

The room was blurry at first as her eyes began to adjust, the tan shape in front of her soon coming into focus as she breathed in the other girl's scent again, Santana leaning over her ever so slightly with this tiny smile on her face.

"Hi."

It was interesting what a single word could do to her after a few long hours apart, but she couldn't help the bright smile that spread across her face, the relieved sensation in her chest, and certainly not the nearly tearful emotions threatening to put her tear ducts into work. Rachel had missed Santana dearly, and she let her arms reach out and pull the taller girl down into a tight hug.

"I missed you." She whispered into the raven-haired girl's ear, glad to feel Santana's warmth against her once more, thrilled to be able to hear her heartbeat and know Santana was safe, and ecstatic to just have made it through their first crisis together. She'd been concerned that the hunters would have gone after Santana during or after the meet, but she was thankful that tragedy hadn't struck.

"It wasn't the same there without you humming and singing show tunes, chiclet. And no one was there to keep Q and Allison from vetoing Supernatural reruns in the hotel room." Santana playfully griped quietly, gripping the diva a little tighter to send home the blatantly obvious message that she had missed her too. It didn't need to be said, they both knew it. "I was wondering about the other day...has Britt's family been good to you?"

Rachel gently tapped Santana's back, giving her the signal to pull back a little. San leaned back up a bit and smiled down at her, almost causing her to lose the words she'd been piecing together for a response. "They've been...hospitable. Brittany's parents have visited me a handful to times to make sure I'm feeling fine." Rachel stated happily, looking off to the side to see a smiling blonde. "Hi, Brittany." She added, gesturing for a hug; Santana slipped back a foot or so as Brittany latched onto her to give the two room.

"Hi Rachie!" Brittany noted happily, giving her a squeeze before moving back. Brittany hugs were always pretty wonderful things, and she never tired of receiving them.

Rachel looked the girl over for a moment and came to a fairly obvious realization. "Brittany...was...was that you in the park that night? The one where Santana found me?"

Brittany nodded happily, her goofy smile infectiously bringing one to Rachel's face. "Well, you needed help, and so did San, so I was there!" The girl stated gleefully as Rachel sat up on the couch and made room for Santana to sit down, which the taller girl promptly did, sidling up right beside her. It wasn't as comfy as Santana's living room couch, or even her basement couch, but it was still pretty nice. Besides, after a day and a half mostly spent alone, having company was much more important.

"Well, I'm very happy that was the case, Brittany, thank you. So...now that the cheerleading competition is over, can I go home now?" She asked, knowing it wasn't a smooth segue into a new conversational topic, but she really was pretty antsy to get back. It had taken a little while, but she really did miss her new home, with her second floor attic bedroom and basement hangout space.

The immediate remorse swirling in Santana's dark orbs was all that was needed to dash her hopes, and for a moment she felt the ghost of a need to catch her breath, which only added to her confusion and pain. Rachel's eyes darted to Brittany, knowing that Santana likely wasn't in a state to answer her verbally. "Why?"

The blonde moved to Rachel's other side and squeezed in beside her on the couch, leaning against her enough to that she felt like she was some sort of Rachel sandwich. "The hunters put a bunch of cameras and microphones and everything in San's house, to spy on her. You can be seen and heard, which is super bad enough, but if their cameras can show heat signatures...it'd be bad. You can't go back until that's all gone."

It was exceedingly odd to hear Brittany slip into a more serious tone, something Rachel honestly hadn't experienced probably more than one or two other times in her life. In fact, it was kind of scary. Still, the argument was sound, and that just made the sinking feeling in her chest worse, knowing that it could be hours, days, perhaps even weeks before all the bugs were gone.

It wasn't until she felt the warmth of Santana's hand squeezing her own that she realized she'd went out and sought her housemate's comfort. Still, it was nice, and she needed it to ground her, else she felt as if she'd feel hopeless. _I just want to go home...I...I just got it, and now I'm losing the second home I've ever had..._

It wasn't fair. She clenched her eyes shut and fought back her frustration and anger at all the memories they'd accumulated there together, at all the promises for the future. She and Santana had planned on setting up the Christmas tree, lights, and decorations, just like she used to do back at home with her father LeRoy. They'd just finished their Hanukkah celebrations recently, and it just wouldn't feel right to miss out on the Christmas portion for the first time in her life. Rachel didn't have much left to hold onto from her past, but she had that and she desperately didn't want to lose it. She wanted to bake her Christmas cookies, she wanted to go ice skating in Columbus like Santana promised they would, she wanted to partake in all the traditions she used to and still loved, and now even that was being threatened. _Haven't I lost enough? Why can't they let me...us... be happy?_

Rachel had never been terribly good at concealing her emotions, so when Santana pulled her into a tight hug and began stroking her hair, she knew she must have been telegraphing her thoughts and feelings on broadcast.

"You'll be back by...I can make sure you get home Tuesday." Brittany stated hastily, her hands clamping gently around Rachel's nearest wrist, piercing blue eyes pleading with her to understand. And really, she did, even if it seemed like yet another punishment on top of a large existing list. "You can even Skype with San until then, she'll just have to use her headphones and be, like, vague about some stuff. Our encryption is awesome, so the hunters won't be able to tell it's you on the other side."

To say it was a consolation prize would be accurate, even if it was unsatisfactory. A Skype session or two a day wouldn't replace their long talks at night, their movie marathons on the basement couch together, or even the sparring sessions that let her know she was helping in some form. Video-chat just couldn't compare to knowing that if she got lonely at night, she could slip into Santana's room and read by her bedside, just knowing her closest friend was a breath away, her heartbeat reminding Rachel that she still had someone in this world that she cared for, and who cared for her.

"Britt, that's fucking fast...sorry for swearing, chiclet, but B...that's gonna get them on red alert, won't it? Wouldn't it be better to draw it out instead?" Santana asked, the girl's voice straining with conflict; Rachel knew that San wanted her home as much as she wanted to be home, but the cheerleader was smart enough to know the consequences of tearing down the efforts in espionage so quickly. It did make sense that it would have the hunters bringing out their proverbial bloodhounds, casting even more suspicion their way.

"As much as it pains me to admit it, I think Santana has a point, Brittany." She added, ducking her face into her friend's collarbone, wanting to soak up every single moment of safety that she could while she had the chance, not knowing when she'd see Santana again after that night.

"I know, I'm not like, the best at this stuff, but I talked to my cousin Gavin, and he said it totally wouldn't really matter how quick you got rid of it all unless you did it super snaily slow over a year or something, and that would suck." Brittany noted with sadness dripping from her voice as she also included herself in the now group hug, which was more than alright in Rachel's mind. Brittany was like her, in a way, and it would be nice to have someone who could relate, even if just a little. And Brittany's hugs WERE legendary.

Rachel just let herself be engulfed as both Santana and Brittany held her tighter, feeling a little more optimistic about a Tuesday return instead of a far longer delay, but the consequences of it all, at least the ones swimming in her mind, seemed dire. "So we'll draw unwanted attention either way. We're trapped."

"If we find some, and call the police, my cousin can make sure the house is stripped and scanned. That way we'll know it's safe for you to go back, and there's a good excuse." Brittany nodded against her back as she spoke, the plan seeming at least fairly efficient. It was about as good as it would get, most likely. "He'll make sure there's a cop car watching your house for the next week, San, and since his best friend's dad is the chief, it'll be people you can totes trust. And then once Rachel's back, the hunters might prowl and spy, and try to get you out of the house, but school's out next Thursday, and that means you'll be home with nowhere to go for a while."

Rachel felt Santana stir against her, the girl's lips pressing fleetingly against her head as she repositioned the three of them into a more comfortable blob. "So it'll be a waiting game, and since we caught them red handed right away, they might get antsy. They might slip."

"Yup!" The blonde's endless cheer returned in full force once again, and Rachel tried to soak in some of that, because she really would need it to endure a few more days of the windowless room she was in. Even being a vampire, she could still look out windows at night and look at the stars. In warmer weather, she'd creaked the windows open so she could better hear the songs of the crickets. It was as if her senses were dulled in that basement fortress, and it wasn't very pleasant even without taking into account the fact that Santana wouldn't be there with her.

"Britt, you'll keep Rach company until she gets back to mine, right?" Santana's question was soft, but there was a demand in there, something she was happy to hear. Rachel knew Santana trusted Brittany with her life, but even knowing that, it meant a lot that Santana would be firm that her BFF take care of her in her stead.

The blonde unwrapped herself from the duo and sat back on her heels, Rachel allowing herself to turn her face toward the bubbly girl for whatever response she'd be offered. As usual, bright blue eyes and a goofy smile greeted her. "Uh huh! We can watch a Pixar movie every night, and I can braid her hair all funky, and..."

Rachel shifted her focus from the blonde as she babbled on about the fun plans for her remaining stay at the Pierce household, the brunette lightly sniffing again to take in Santana's familiar scent, writing it to memory. Yes, she was aware of how ridiculously clingy she'd become since Santana had taken her in, but she didn't have it in herself to care anymore, so long as it didn't bother her housemate. And since Santana hadn't complained once, she let herself settle back into the comforting embrace of the girl, knowing that she'd probably be leaving soon.

Separation for school had been manageable, and the cheer competitions had been difficult but not terrible. However, this would be the first time she'd be apart from Santana for days, knowing the girl wouldn't be able to leave her house for long enough to see her until Rachel was allowed back home, and it honestly felt a lot like when she was first turned and lost her family. A tiny little voice inside of her reminded her that she'd never let Santana be lost to her. Rachel allowed herself to listen to it like a mantra; it was one of the only things she was one hundred percent certain of.


	5. Chapter 5

By Sunday evening, Santana had officially hated nearly every police officer scouring her home. By Monday at lunch, she had developed a hatred of clocks. When Santana got home that evening, she taped up an area on her heavy bag, drew the word "time" on it in bold capital letters, and proceeded to beat the ever-living shit out of it until the ink had dulled substantially. To say that she was frustrated and angry would be an understatement.

In truth, Santana was furious, and it kind of scared her just how much the whole ordeal affected her. Every time an officer would dig a microphone out of her wall, or unscrew a light fixture to pull out the camera sneakily positioned inside, or ascended the tree outside her bedroom window to remove a slew of surveillance equipment, her fury notched up another level. A bunch of strangers had invaded her home, destroyed her privacy, her routines, her and Rachel's plans, and then left her to clean it up and deal with the consequences; in the past, her violent threats had been for show ninety-nine percent of the time but she wasn't joking this time around. Ever since taking up muay-thai in grade 5 to help redirect her rage issues to a safer form of expression, she'd been doing well, but the stress was getting to her. Just knowing that the cops pulling all that precious equipment out would spur the hunters to investigate had her unnervingly giddy for some sort of showdown, and while her brain was saying that it was a very bad thing to feel any glee for that potential outcome, she really wanted to kick someone's ass.

Her father had initially been concerned about the news of someone planting the house with cameras and everything, but once he saw the cops had a handle on it, he seemed to calm down and go back to normal. To his credit, he stuck around for longer than usual, and actually asked Santana if she was comfortable staying in the house or if she wanted a hotel. When she told him she wasn't about to be intimidated out of her home, he just nodded and went to his room to sleep, drink, or do whatever he usually did. She really didn't know anymore, these days.

Santana spent half of Tuesday in class, and half in the Cheerios storage room beating up on the padded mats there just to work off her anger, not wanting Rachel to pressure her into a sparring session so early into her homecoming. The diva was nothing if not observant of her little personal tics and Santana knew the girl would want her to unload that anger once she caught whiff of it, so better the Cheerios floor-mats than Rachel's body. Sparring with her was always difficult, and try as she might, she would never go all out on the diva. It just never seemed right.

Eventually, Tuesday evening rolled around, Santana pacing a trench in her kitchen once Brittany called to say they were on their way and that they were going to help sneak Rachel in through the garage. At quarter after five, Santana heard Brittany's car pull into the driveway, prompting her to open the garage door. Less than two minutes later, the door to the garage was open and Santana was leaning backward, hard against the island in the kitchen, having caught a diva-shaped projectile.

Rachel's relieved melodic laughter was music to her ears as Santana playfully swung the brunette from side to side, just freaking thrilled to have her life one step closer to normal again. The third thing she noticed, past Rachel's immediate weight and laughter at least, was how warm the girl was compared to usual. That, combined with how surprisingly hard the diva was clutching onto her, had her understanding that Rachel had probably just consumed blood. Which, really, she didn't blame the Pierces for, considering some pouting from Berry would probably have Santana treating the vampire with kid gloves about the whole blood intake thing, at least for the first day or two back. She was big enough to admit that, even if just to herself.

Eventually, her arms and back started aching a bit, so she let the diva down lightly and gave her a good look over. To check Rachel for any new injuries or whatever, and to just make sure she was doing alright, obviously. And she looked more than alright, her skin glowing with a bit more warmth than usual, and a little more light in her eyes. Her diva was back home, safe and sound, and in one piece; everything else could take a back seat to enjoying that slice of reality, at least for a little bit.

"Welcome home, chiclet." Santana noted with a face-splitting grin before leaning forward to give Rachel another happy squeeze over her return. "God, it's good to see you."

Rachel squeezed back before stepping away, her hands taking hold of Santana's in a comforting grip. "I missed you too, Santana." She rolled her eyes at Rachel's soft remark but it was most certainly the truth. If Britt weren't off at the doorway to the garage watching them, maybe she would have said as much in return, but it just felt a little too intimate. Anyway, Santana knew Rachel knew she'd missed her, and the sheer relief on the diva's face was an amazing sight. Honestly she wasn't sure if she'd ever seen the girl look more relieved, but maybe she was a little biased. Just a teensy bit.

"So, I'm definitely down for celebrating, but I have a feeling you two might already have ideas on how we should do that." Santana stated with confidence, seeing as Brittany had kept her hands behind her back the whole time, which was unusual given the girl's tendency to hug first and talk later. One expectant look at the bubbly blonde and both hands quickly flung forward, holding a small stack of DVDs.

Santana lightly extracted one of her hands from Rachel's grip, but squeezed back with the other as she gestured them to follow her downstairs to the basement rec room. It was as good a place as any to set up shop for the night, especially with all the memories she and the other two had made down there. As soon as the couch was in reach, Rachel let go and hopped onto it, bouncing on the spongy cushions a bit from the impact while Brittany settled in on the opposite corner.

As the blonde quickly scattered the movies on the side-table and started whatever odd selection method that Santana hadn't quite figured out yet after all these years, she waltzed over to the bar, grabbing one of the reserve packs of vegan gummi worms and tossing it at the diva's head.

The surprised shriek quickly shifted to a playful glare, laughter bubbling just under the surface as she held eye contact until giggles broke through Berry's lips. "So Rach has her gummis…what kind of other food are we thinking about for tonight's festivities?"

Brittany's eyes sparkled at the prospects of food without restrictions, given they were free of cheer practices and competitions for at least a while. "Oh, oh! San, do you still have those frozen pizzas? And do you have pineapple? I want to have some on my pizza." The blonde spoke with palpable excitement, practically vibrating in place.

"I think I have some pizzas left over from one of you and Q's visits, and yeah, I've got a bunch of fruit too." Santana answered, smiling at how happy both of her friends were about their food; Rachel technically wouldn't get sustenance from the gummis, but they always seemed to cheer the girl up and keep a smile on her face. That, to Santana, was worth a lot; it was a shred of normalcy amongst a bunch of absolute insanity that they both were still coping with. "Why don't you two hang out a bit, maybe you can help Rachel get settled back in while I get the food ready?"

Both girls nodded at practically the same time, and despite wanting to spend more immediate time with Rachel, she really just wanted to get to the part of the night where they could relax on the couch for hours together, and if that meant getting Britt's help a little bit while Berry was out of sight, then so be it.

Gathering a platter of fruit and veggies wasn't too tricky; she'd gone grocery shopping the previous evening in preparation, even if just a little bit, for Rachel's return. It just seemed right to have some vegan stuff on site in case Rachel felt the need to snack and feel more included, as she had a few times before. After tossing the two frozen pizzas in the oven, she soon got to chopping up the produce; she had a little craving for apples, and figured that'd be a decent snack for after , but most of the work would be done on the pineapple Britt wanted on the pepperoni pizza the blonde was likely to claim as her own. The girl was like a trash compactor when it came to eating sometimes, really.

It was about ten minutes into the timer set for the pizzas when the doorbell rang out, Santana immediately stilling in sudden anxiety and concern over who could be at the door. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest as she mentally went over as many possibilities she could fathom in the twelve seconds before the bell rang again. Leaving the fruit abandoned for the moment, she walked toward her front door, hesitating for a brief moment before swinging it open.

"Hey, S!" Quinn cheered as soon as the door was open wide enough where Santana could see the surprisingly cheerful blonde. Now, Santana wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it really was a rare event that Quinn would visit so early in the evening, and so early in the week.

"Q…what's up?" She asked, a little stunned to see the blonde over at her house, having grown used to a pattern of when her friend would visit. Only insanely rarely did Q visit before Thursday rolled around, and when she did, it was late. Santana stepped aside and let Quinn into the foyer. "Not often you grace us with your presence so early in the week, blondie."

Quinn rolled her eyes as she took off her jacket and hung it up on the nearby coat rack. "I figured we could celebrate this weekend's win. I called Brittany to see if she'd be available later in the week, but when I heard she was over here, I thought I'd stop by and that we could hang out."

Santana cocked her head to the side and silently digested the information as her eyes assessed the blonde fully. _Okay, something's weird…Quinn's wearing jeans, and she pretty much swore those off after the pregnancy, and almost fully since she was Lucy. I mean, hell, I make fun of her all the time for her damn sundresses and skirts, and when Q celebrates, she usually glams it up a bit, she doesn't tone it down. Besides, no one celebrates on a Tuesday. So…seriously…and wait, she called Britt?_ Santana's gaze shot to the stairwell leading to the basement, eying it questioningly for a moment as if the bubbly blonde was standing right there. _Britt would have told me if Q was coming over, right? She would. She wouldn't have started setting Rachel up for a night of fun, she would have kept Rachel away, back at her place, probably. This is all a bit weird for my tastes…_

"Why didn't you come celebrate with us on Saturday when we got back in town? I know your dad got you out of your extreme celibacy and prayer practice all weekend." Santana asked, trying to keep her tone casual, because her gut was twisting itself into a knot, and nothing was making much sense at all.

"My mom needed me back home for some family stuff, and there was a church event on Sunday I needed to go to after missing the camp. Anyway, no harm celebrating twice, is there?" The blonde asked, shooting Santana a slightly amused smirk, as if asking her when she ever turned down an opportunity to let loose a little.

Santana shrugged at that and gestured Quinn toward the kitchen. "You know me, Q, I'm always game. No alcohol, though, because we still have school tomorrow and I'm not rocking the sunglasses shit there during finals week. Come on into the kitchen, I'm prepping some food. Me and B were just planning on snacking like pros and watching some movies in the basement, if you're up for helping me carry shit down when it's done. "

The blonde nodded and they both stood there for an awkward two or three seconds before Quinn turned and walked toward the aforementioned room, Santana in tow, having remembered Brittany's advice to ensure she never, literally at least, turned her back on her friend. Had this been a Thursday night around ten, Santana may have been a bit lenient on that front, but Q was being a little too weird to afford that. Her mind flashed to beatings the blonde had suffered in earlier years that had marked up her legs, and Santana desperately hoped Q wasn't so off kilter because that had happened again.

"I still can't believe some pervert broke into your house." Quinn noted as she crossed into the kitchen, resting up against the edge of the island counter top.

Santana shuddered at the thought of that actually being true, even if she knew it wasn't; Quinn could read her damn well, and if her reactions weren't legit, the blonde might get even weirder and suspicious. "It's really creepy. I mean, dad's not here much, so I mostly live alone…and if it's a live feed like I was told, and I'd been caught sleeping…they could have snuck in here and…well...I'd have been helpless." She spoke, finishing her rambling on a weak note, not having ever really felt a tremendous amount of comfort feeling weak around Q. Lucy was a different story, though, but then again, Lucy was almost an entirely different person in Santana's mind. Almost.

"But they took care of it all, right? All the cameras are gone?" Quinn asked with a legitimately concerned expression on her face that helped ease a little bit of Santana's worries about what was up with the blonde. She didn't see a lot of pain there, just awkwardness and worry. Still, she'd keep with Britt's advice for the time being, just in case Q decided to go explore on her own while her back was turned.

She nodded in response, before swiftly bringing the fruits and knife over to the island, so she could chop and keep Quinn in her line of sight. "Yeah, B's cousin works for Lima PD and he made sure the whole place, inside and outside, was swept hardcore. And he's popping by to check on me every few hours to see if I'm alright just in case." Santana added, noticing Quinn tensing ever so slightly at that last bit of information as she nodded along to the details. She wasn't about to pretend to have a clue about what the flying fuck was going on, but something was seriously off about Quinn, and she wasn't about to let the blonde leave until she had a better idea of what had her friend on edge. "Even if my dad's stopped caring since the cops piled in here like a clown car and confirmed they'd make house calls as persistently as Mormons, it's nice to know there's some authority figure that does care." She added, finishing chopping up the honeycrisp, her right hand grabbing a granny smith to slice up next.

"That's a relief to hear, San. I hope the bastard's caught. You don't think it's Jewfro, do you?" The blonde queried with a cocked eyebrow, shooting her a hesitant look.

"Nah, he's not good enough to have done all that crap, and he's definitely not rich enough to afford it all and risk losing it. Besides, he's never been real into me…prefers a bit lighter skin, bigger noses, affinity for handling money…" Santana noted playfully, earning a deserved nod from the blonde, who slid another apple over to Santana once she'd fully sliced the second one up. "…Anyway, the person's gotta be rich. They've definitely done this before, too, by how little evidence was left behind. And they were interested in me, with a lot of the cameras and mics being in the rooms I'm in the most, and in the tree outside my bedroom window. Doesn't sound like Jewfro at all."

At that, she stepped backward, away from the island, turning her side to Quinn as she grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. Because yeah, she was getting shady vibes from one of her favourite girls, but she wasn't gonna figure any of that shit out with a desert for a mouth.

Santana guzzled down half the glass before stepping back over to the island and Quinn's seemingly concerned self. "Well, at least you'll be home pretty steady for a while, by the end of the week at least. Honestly, the winter break couldn't have come at a better time, I can't wait to be free of Sue's ridiculous practices." The blonde sounded relieved, which was par for the course given their mutual hatred of Sue's practices, but there was also a little tension in her voice, at least in how she'd finished that first sentence. And that was a dead giveaway that something was up, even if blondie was looking entirely innocent at the moment, aside from stealing a slice of apple.

"You and me both, Q. I don't really like hanging around the house most days, but I think I'm gonna try to make this place more homey over the break. Might keep me from going insane, and whatever I get to spruce things up could maybe make the trip to whatever place I wind up in after graduation." She stated confidently, thinking that maybe she could use Q's sense of interior design to help her figure out what won't work for her place and what will, depending. On some things, they butted heads, like bedding and paint colour, but they usually saw eye to eye on furniture, décor, candles and that sort of stuff. Strangely enough, the blonde always did make fun of her for having the taste of a vampire when it came to her dark sheets, pillows, and painted walls. That Rachel complimented her on it once almost made her laugh.

The clattering of something in her garage instead had her swallow the urge and redirect her attention toward the door to the garage. There was a chance that Britt didn't close the garage door like usual, and that jerk of a red squirrel, who she scornfully named Mephisto, got back in and decided to cause some small-scale mayhem. However, Santana wasn't sure she was willing to risk it.

She glanced over to where Quinn was, or at least where Q had been, wanting to tell the blonde to hang back and have her phone ready. Instead, the blonde's silent absence had Britt's voice echoing in her head sharply enough for her to shift her gaze to the mirror on the wall over on the other side of the kitchen, revealing Quinn was about three feet behind her.

Not leaving anything to chance, she spun on her heel, catching the blonde's hand resting oddly on one of the kitchen cabinets, inexplicably leaning on it when the whole posture just wasn't in Quinn's usual repertoire. It just looked too casual and awkward for the blonde. That the hand rested almost directly above Santana's glass of water, however, had those previously dipping red flags waving at full mast again. It was just an odd place to stop.

Santana held a finger to her mouth in warning as she backed up toward the door to the garage, knowing the layout of the kitchen well enough to navigate her way to the new security panel her father had installed after the home invasion. Carefully, she scrolled through the menus until she found what she was looking for, shaking her head at the whole situation. "Britt just left the garage door open. Fucking squirrels always rush in and terrorize the place when they have the chance. I'll close it anyway, and activate the system on all the doors leading inside, just to be safe."

A few seconds later, the house was secure, or at least secure enough, and Quinn remained fully in her sight lines. It was unnerving that as soon as there was some distraction, the blonde had basically snuck up behind her for no reason. Santana was officially on edge now, and while she was doing her best to hide it, she couldn't tell if Q had picked up on it.

Knowing she needed some distraction, Santana steered the discussion toward a topic she knew would have the blonde off balance with the right word here or there. "Freaking things won't let us have our pizzas in peace. At least, if they ever finish cooking. Speaking of frigid shit with no results in sight, how was church?"

The tight smile Quinn offered was enough proof that the blonde's least favourite subject would indeed get the job done until her mind was less combobulated over how suspicious Q was being. At worst, her friend would be innocent of everything and would rush out, pissed off at her, and would hold a deep enough grudge that would have her spitefully refraining from late night visits when blondie actually needed them. Or, well, that was sort of the best worst case, because it was the worst she was willing to consider.

"Church was…fine. As it always is. It's boring, but my dad insists that I attend mass and the church camp, so I do." Quinn answered sternly, as she usually did when discussion shifted to the topic. The tone usually ensured that Santana laid off and found something better to talk about, but tonight she wasn't quite ready to let blondie back in her comfort zone.

She nodded and slowly made her way back toward the island, moving to take Quinn's old spot at the island. However, when Q made to join her on that side, she remained in motion, circling the barrier between the two. Something wasn't right. They always took opposite sides on the island; call it reflective of their friendship, but they just felt more comfortable looking across at each other than standing beside each other, in general. She didn't understand why Q was acting so weird, and it had her head buzzing with thoughts and concerns she really didn't want to entertain on a night when she should have been celebrating with Rachel and Britt.

"You Fabray women…I take it your mom's back to her docile self now that Russell's back? Because god knows, whatever he wants, he seems to be given on a silver freaking platter from you two." Santana snarked out, clearly catching Quinn off guard if the red pooling in the blonde's cheeks was any indication. The visible fury that clicked in a second later was the obvious clincher, of course.

"San…" Quinn growled, and Santana hadn't heard that tone for a long time. It was when the blonde was giving someone a single chance to retract their statement, beg for forgiveness, or change topic. The last time she'd heard it, Quinn basically banned her from her life for a few months, which was freaking intimidating, but Santana chalked a lot of that reaction up to baby hormones and the infighting they'd done around that time. These days, she and Q were a lot closer, and she felt willing to test those new boundaries in hopes of getting a point across.

"You're his daughter, not his damn slave. Last I understood, you're still an emancipated minor, so he has fuck all of a say when it comes to you, so why let him waltz back in and play the 'virtuous' father when he's the closest thing to a demon I've ever known?" She ranted, still circling the island with Quinn stalking in time with her, though the blonde's body language was admittedly a little more predatory. Par for the course, given the subject matter, but there was something else to it. Something more urgent.

"Shut up about things you know nothing about, Santana." The blonde's growled at her, dangerous words rattling in her head once again, but Santana didn't care about them. She knew every response to everything she'd say. She'd already heard it before; instead, she watched. She watched the blonde's hazel eyes focusing hard on her, but not focus enough to avoid flickering off to other parts of the room. She watched how Q would hesitate slightly whenever Santana passed the knife block. She watched Quinn's left hand's fingers rolling in a wave repeatedly, as if ready to grab something at any moment.

But that didn't make any sense. Sure, Britt had said that Q was dangerous, but only so much that she could draw unwanted attention, and maybe notice that enough things were off to somehow figure out another person was living there with her. Santana took a deep breath to calm herself, deciding to sheath it in some dialogue fitting her calming behaviour.

"Q, I know what it's like to miss family and want them back, to want things to get back to what they used to be like, or at least the good stuff. But jeez, people change, we know that, Q. And not always for the better." She stated softer than her previous outbursts, drawing away some of the blonde's ire for the moment, those flinty hazel eyes looking a little warmer than before. Which, fuck, was a good sign. That maybe Q was just going all fight or flight in an extreme sense.

"You used to correct me way back, that blood being thicker than water meant that faith won out over family, Q. That our blood relatives don't matter so much, that we make our own families. People building loyalty over time by supporting each other, having each other's backs and shit." She added as she slowed her pace nearing the sink, ultimately dumping the glass of water down it as a test and allowing the blonde to close the distance a little.

Quinn huffed and pursed her lips in annoyance, even if the anger was draining out of the blonde. It was a decidedly Fabray response, but Santana was thankful that the girl wasn't pulling out a knife and maiming her for talking shit about her fucked up family. "Are you done lecturing me about my family and religion yet?"

Santana offered a shrug, feeling a little more balanced and settled after her pointed rant; the pizzas would be done in a few minutes, and she'd much prefer to corral the blonde down in the basement with Britt at her side to try and wait the whole situation out. Something was wrong, but she wasn't honestly in the mood to confront whatever that was just yet. So a little de-escalation was called for.

"Can you honestly say you couldn't have hung out with B and I on Saturday if you really wanted to?" She asked, taking an apologetic tone for pushing the topic, but she really did want to know where Q was at and why the girl chose a Tuesday evening of all times to celebrate.

Quinn took two steps closer to her, the blonde's expression shifting to curiosity. "Speaking of B, when did you two start hanging out again? You two were distant all semester."

The deflection of her question once again had red flags waving vibrantly in her mind, though she allowed the shift of focus, deciding that maybe it was easier to fill the time. "You know how we were, Q. Britt's not exactly easy to get over. It fucking hurt being around her, you know?" She asked rhetorically, earning a sympathetic smile from the blonde, who moved to within a foot or two from her during her explanation. "She gave me all the space I needed to get where I had to be with her, to keep her as a friend and be good with that. Then, before state, we just…got to talking, and I realized how much I missed her. She's my BFF, and… I won't lie, sometimes my thoughts do take a turn, but when I see her now, I see my friend. Not the girl I was in love with, so we're good now."

Quinn's eyes softened as she spoke about Britt and their reconciliation. Santana spruced up her story a bit, but it really was pretty much all truth. It took a long ass time to get over Britt, but the fact was that they just weren't working out. She and the dancer had been sexually compatible, but it was always like something was missing. Something small, but there was a void nevertheless than neither had been able to fill for whatever reason. That bled into their relationship, and Britt began slowly distancing herself from Santana; she loved the blonde, truly, but it was clear they worked best as affectionate best friends, and both needed to put in the work to get back to that point.

Britt hadn't needed much time, which wasn't tremendously surprising, but it HAD hurt a little nonetheless. However, she knew Britt was amazing at adapting to social situations, so it just made sense, and there was a little relief that at least one of them would avoid a shit-tonne of struggle.

"And…what about me, San?" Quinn asked softly, her gaze flickering to the floor before shifting back up to Santana's eyes. It was arguably about as vulnerable as she'd witnessed the blonde face to face in months, but with the night already being kind of surprising and wild, it didn't seem too out of place. Quinn was definitely messed up in some way, and it wasn't surprising to see the girl's emotions shifting everywhere.

Santana let out a sad sigh that the blonde even needed to ask, but she entertained the question with the sort of signature honesty normally found solely inside her bedroom during their sleepovers. "You're still the one I go to when I need a kick in the ass or a reality check, when I need someone I can really trust. I mean, fuck, we've had our share of blowouts, Q, but push comes to shove, I'll always have your back. And you'll have mine. That's how we work, blondie, and church shit or not, Cheerios or not, I don't see that changing. We're a team."

If she was being brutally honest, the night had certainly tested that level of trust she had in her favourite bookworm, but she wanted to trust Q. Too many times, she'd been burned by ignoring her instincts to stick with the blonde and keep faith her, and she really didn't want to go that route tonight. Not when the blonde was so off-kilter, and not when Rachel and Britt were somewhere downstairs hiding out for the moment.

Quinn closed the distance between them slowly but confidently, her tall, lithe body emanating warmth and relief, as if a massive weight had been lifted off her chest. Santana didn't get much time to admire the blonde before being pulled gently into a hug, but it was enough to recognize that rare happiness Lucy used to exude in buckets before being repackaged into Quinn's more restricted persona. It had her heart soaring and her arms immediately wrapping up around the blonde's shoulder-blades.

"You're my best friend, San." Quinn whispered tearfully, the girl's voice cracking against the single syllable her name had been rendered into, lips grazing her ear a momentary distraction before Santana's world spun out from under her.

Santana felt herself react before she knew what was happening, her head immediately dizzy and disoriented as her hands shot up to impede the loss of blood flow to the brain. Her knees shook momentarily as she wondered where Quinn went and why it was so hard to breathe, before her hand forced its way under the crook of an elbow.

A standing guillotine just didn't seem logical to defend against, given it was early evening, and the pizzas would be out in a little under four minutes. Hadn't she locked the doors? Santana wanted to nod to herself that she had, but there was an arm lodged under her chin applying pressure to her throat and while the whole venue of it all made no sense, she hadn't been choked out in two years. Her pride simply wouldn't allow it then, or now.

Santana shifted her foot around from underneath her as she launched backward, finding her opponent's ankle and locking her foot around it as she used the sink as leverage to throw the both of them to the ground.

The impact of the fall onto the tiled flooring let her force her arm through the small gap her attacker had left, letting her spin free of the guillotine and roll off them in hopes of getting her bearings and some oxygen back into her body.

A blur of pale yellow was all she managed to see as she got to her feet, before being tackled backward against the edge of an unyielding marble countertop. Santana had never been the best student at boxing, but from her attacker's posture, she was aware there would be at least one punch thrown. Trusting her instincts and ignoring the pain in her back or the lack of air in her lungs, she lowered her right arm to protect her midsection, just in time to block a hard hook. The impact of strong, bony fists resonated up her elbow, but Santana grimaced through it, leaning backward a bit to balance herself as she used a leg to push her attacker away, creating a bit of space.

An unbidden sob burst from her throat as her focus cleared enough to recognize Quinn's right elbow spinning toward her, her heart seizing all bodily activity in her shock and confusion as a forearm and fist shot from a tucked state like lightning.

Santana wasn't sure what hurt more, the fist exploding against the side of her face, or the hard impact of her nose on her stone tiled floor. In truth, it hardly felt real enough to matter. Quinn had tried to choke her out in her own kitchen. Quinn had attacked her, ferociously. It didn't make sense.

With a groan, she shifted to her side, using a hand to prop herself up as she moved her gaze to the blonde looming over her, knife in hand. Knife in…

Santana rolled backward frantically at the mere glint of it, stilling at a crouch and terrified that her instincts had served her well, the blonde having closed the distance quickly. A distant voice in her head, probably her trainer, was yelling at her, telling her to counter-attack, to disarm, to gain an advantage, but nothing made sense. Santana just needed to know why any of it was happening, but she could barely breathe, her throat feeling full of tears and saturated with the history they'd shared together.

There wasn't time for answers, not as the blonde lunged across the short distance once more. Santana spun into her, using the momentum to throw the girl over her shoulder. A lancing pain shot through her leg as they both made impact, her floor getting more work than her practice mat in the basement had in a long time.

When Santana moved to stand, a howl of pain clawed its way up her throat and broke the silence in the kitchen. Quinn had always been damn crafty, and the blood seeping down her thigh just short of her skirt's hem was evidence enough that the girl had managed to get at least a decent shot in with the weapon. Quinn seemed to notice that too, watching Santana's wound intensely instead of attacking. Which, fuck, was some sort of twisted relief, enough for her mind to catch up to everything that had happened in the past minute.

"THE FUCK, QUINN?! Jesus FUCKING hell, what are you DOING?!" She yelled out, stumbling backward painfully against the island for support, knowing she should probably have a hand covering the wound, but the urge to stay upright and protected in case of another attack seemed like a higher priority since, for some fucking reason, there was still a threat to her a few feet away. In the form of one of her best friends. One of her only friends. The one she thought she could trust above pretty much all others. It was a sort of sick, twisted turn of event that made no fucking sense aside from her life continuing to go to shit for no good reason.

Quinn made no effort to respond, just staring hard at her wound, the girl's face growing paler and more distraught with each passing second, giving Santana's defensive nature a reason to rear its head. "Do you just go fucking stab all your best friends, Q?"

"You're not a ghoul." The four words were spoken so quietly and so pitifully strained, and Santana would have felt indignant if it didn't feel like her heart was cracking open at the reality of what was happening. Of what had happened, and why Quinn had chosen that specific Tuesday to pop by for a visit.

It was all too much, and she needed time to just process, so she defaulted to a rant to give herself the space needed to get her shit in order. "Of course I'm not a…a fucking ghoul, Q! What the fuck are you on about?! This isn't Supernatural, tubbers! You're not Quinn fucking Winchester! You're a Cheerio, like me, and I'm your best friend, and you STABBED ME!" She yelled, deciding it was possibly safe enough to start applying pressure to her wound, feeling nauseous at the immediate spike of pain as she touched it. It was shallow, but long, and she'd already lost a decent amount of blood if the swath of red liquid covering her legs and pooling on the floor was any indication.

"I…I can explain, San, please, let me…I can…" Quinn stammered, though the fact that the blonde sounded exactly like Lucy used to was enough to send her over the edge again. Quinn had never truly been lost to her, but she fucking missed Lucy sometimes, and to see her old friend rear her head after a stabbing was just too fucking much, and it felt too much like manipulation.

Especially given that it seemed Quinn was with the hunters going after Rachel. Quinn had likely helped bug her home in some way. And now Quinn had attacked her, in her kitchen, because she thought Santana had been a damned ghoul, whatever that was. A part of her could respect the intent of it all, even if she kind of really wanted to beat the ever-loving shit out of Q for hurting her like this. Not just physically, but in going about everything in a way that pretty much killed her trust in the blonde.

"Shut the fuck UP, QUINN!" She countered with a ferocity that had Quinn flinching backwards, tears spilling down her cheeks in clear panic, the situation clearly not what the blonde had expected. Santana was only sure of one thing, that for both of them, everything was starting to spin out of control.

Thankfully, she noticed Britt slowly walking through the living room towards them, quiet as a fucking ghost as she approached behind Quinn's blind spot. It had her feeling that maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to get a damn breather soon. "You think you can choke me out for some stupid fucking reason?! I trusted you, Quinn! What am I supposed to fucking do now?! How am I supposed to explain to my dad that you tried to slip me a roofie, you tried to choke me out, and…third time's the charm…you STABBED me?!"

Quinn paled even whiter at the questions thrown her way, her jaw trembling and looking very much younger than her age, knees curling up toward her chest as sobs began spilling from the blonde's lips. A part of Santana wanted to rush forward and comfort her, hating seeing Q upset, but the sharp pain throbbing at her thigh was reminder enough of why her friend would remain on the floor alone.

In a second, however, everything changed. The oven's timer went off, shocking the blonde from her woes, providing a clear distraction. Brittany's arm shot forward toward Quinn's back, taser in hand. Quinn's body convulsed almost unnaturally before slumping to the ground, unconscious.

Had Santana a choice, she would have preferred not to see the reaction to the electric shock; as is, she felt even more nauseous, the pain from her wound and hurt from the whole event propelling the contents of her stomach up her throat and out onto the already bloody floor at her feet.

It was a mess. Such a fucking mess, and even a quick glass of water from Britt wasn't enough to rinse the taste from her mouth. Santana stood against the island for a few minutes as Britt provided her with a makeshift tourniquet, took the pizzas out of the oven, and hauled Q up onto her shoulders in a fireman carry.

Santana sluggishly followed the blondes to the basement and into the storage room, where Britt quickly stripped Quinn of most her clothes, sat her on one of Santana's parents' old kitchen chairs, and began restraining her with chains. Santana knelt at the chair, feeling a little dizzy as she dragged some heavy weights over to the legs of the chair and tied them to it in hopes it would help keep Quinn stationary.

The blonde hunter wasn't out long, coming to just as Brittany finished cuffing Quinn's hands together behind the chair.

All Santana could think was that this wasn't how the night was supposed to play out. It was supposed to be fun, happy and relaxing. Not so viscerally painful, confusing and surprising. It was supposed to be easy, not whatever was happening at the moment. Not yet another upheaval of her life. Vampire. Werewolf. Hunter. Santana would have laughed at the absurdity of it all if she didn't feel at the end of her wits already.

Santana stared blankly at her restrained friend's clothes as Britt, having decided Quinn was perfectly secure, began pulling things from the jacket, belt, jeans and shoes. Ridiculous things, like something akin to fishing line, tiny vials of liquids, small rods with wooden arrowheads attached, what looked to be a lock-pick set, and two miniature knives.

"No new bugs or cameras." Santana mumbled, still in a dazed shock that she was actually sitting there, going through Quinn's clothes for weapons. That she was in a position where her cheer captain had seemingly irreparably placed herself in opposition to her, which was unfathomable not thirty minutes prior.

"I have my dad's scrambler on me, nothing she brought would have worked." Brittany explained dully, scouring the articles of clothing for anything else, not wanting to miss anything potentially dangerous.

Santana turned her gaze to Quinn, who looked a heartbreaking combination of scared and resigned. As if they were about to do something like torture her.

No. She would never be like Russell.

Ignoring the pain in her thigh for the moment, she shifted in place and cupped her captain's face in her hands, forcing Quinn's focus onto her. "I really, really freaking wanted to believe you were on my side, Q. I didn't…I don't like seeing you hurt, blondie." She noted quietly, swallowing back the tears that threatened to build. It wouldn't do to weep at such a time or place. "But god damnit Quinn, why'd you make us defend ourselves? We just want to be left alone. We're not the bad guys here, you…you idiot."

Santana knew she should be much angrier at Quinn. She should be so furious that the sky would turn red in premonition with the payback she'd bring. Instead, though, she just felt hollow. She could see how utterly broken and defeated Quinn looked, and it just signaled, on top of the whole scene in the kitchen, a growing rift between them built on fresh wounds of all types. They, she and Quinn, were a mess, and Santana wasn't sure how to go about fixing it, if it was even possible. She'd made a promise that she didn't know how to keep anymore, and her heart thudded away painfully in her chest at the predicament.

"What are you talking about?" Quinn asked, though the girl was so transparently putting up a false front that it was almost frightening. Even in her early days, she never saw through Quinn so effortlessly, and that it was coming in such a shitty situation felt like a knife in the chest. Or another in her thigh, maybe.

"It's totes clear your family's been staking San's house out lately, Quinn." Britt responded quickly, earning her a legitimately shocked look from Santana. "Sorry, San. I wanted to give her a chance to take our side and reunite the unholy trinity, and I knew if I told you before, you would have done something super bad."

Santana scoffed at the remark, but if she'd been told in advance that Quinn was the one to blame for their shitty weekend, and that Q was a major threat and would ultimately attack her, she probably would have tackled the blonde at her doorway out of principle.

"You weren't here on good faith, Q. Not with all this shit." She noted, removing a hand from the girl's cheek to gesture to all the hunter crap laying on the ground. "I don't want to believe it, but…but…god, have you just been coming around to spy on me? Or did you want to? Did you even care about me?" She asked, cursing herself internally as tears spilled down her cheeks. She'd always been something of a crier, and it was just getting to be too much. The day was just too much.

"I do! San, you have to believe me, I do. I just wanted you to be safe. If you're hiding Azimio or Leah here, I promise it's not worth it. I could keep you both safe and get you free of them." The blonde sounded sincere in her fervent pleading, but the idea of her hosting Azimio or Leah unwillingly was enough to get Britt laughing. Santana couldn't keep from letting out a brief watery laugh either.

"We aren't protecting them, but I'm protecting San. I know hunters get rid of evidence, Quinn. I won't let your dad touch her." Brittany stated firmly, her voice sounding far more serious than Santana had expected, given the dancer's laughing fit just seconds prior.

Quinn struggled against the chains to no avail, shaking her head loose of Santana's hand to gaze desperately at Brittany. "I'll make an exception! Please! If you're clean, I can make sure my family's called off, I swear it. I swear!"

Santana rested her hands on Quinn's knees and gave her sweaty, cool skin a little squeeze to grab her attention back from Britt. "We're not 'clean', though, Q." Santana whispered, but apparently it was a loud enough signal for Rachel to hear, because her favourite vampire emerged from a hiding spot deeper in the storage room.

Berry's eyes were fixated on her, but not her wound. Rachel was looking her dead in the eyes, her own big brown doe eyes so wide and worried as the vampire closed the distance to her.

"Seriously?!" Quinn cried loudly, sounding far more anguished having seen Rachel than during the protests about Azimio or Leah, her hazel eyes darting between Santana and Berry as if something would eventually appear on their foreheads that would explain it all.

Santana shrugged, deciding to cut that curiosity off at the knees. "I found her in a park bleeding out. Britt had been tailing me and chased me away, but Rach showed up at my home later on, and I took her in. She's been here ever since." She explained, knowing that telling Quinn the truth might damn them a bit, but she needed her friend to understand where she was at. Because maybe, just maybe, Q would defect and help them.

However, her explanation, instead of drawing more questions, just drew a long sigh. "Great. I can't believe Berry has thralls."

Once again, Britt's laughter filled the room, everyone's attention flitting to the dancer. Well, everyone but Rachel, who was just staring at her still. Which was a little creepy, but the diva seemed to be taking stock of her injuries, judging by the intensity of the gaze sweeping her body. Worry was coming off the singer in waves, though there was something else there as well; the twitch of Berry's right hand had her thinking anxiety, perhaps anger. She wasn't entirely sure just yet.

"Rachel doesn't have thralls, silly. Maybe the stuffed elephant San gave her, but I can't be a thrall, and San's definitely not because I'd smell it." Brittany explained simply, though without the insider info on their whole situation, she could only imagine it just confused Quinn even more.

Predictably, Quinn's eyes grew as wide as saucers as she looked toward the dancer, her lower lip trembling slightly. "Are…are you a vampire too, B?"

Brittany, ever the one to casually celebrate herself, raised a fist with devil horns. "Werewolf represent." The typically odd tone of Britt's was nearly enough to distract her with the normality of it all, but Rachel leading her over to a crate to sit down and rest her wounded leg broke her focus from the blondes.

Rest. It honestly seemed like a good idea, even if her leg wasn't terribly wounded. It had bled a lot, but it was about as shallow as wound could get, at least one made by one of her dad's fancy knives.

An exasperated sigh and a sad laugh shifted part of Santana's attention back to Quinn, who was flicking her gaze between Britt and Rachel repeatedly. "There's a vampire AND a werewolf in this house." The blonde stated dully, earning a nod from everyone else in confirmation. "God, I'm so fucked."

Santana let Rachel fuss over her leg wound for the moment, knowing the diva could get a good look at it while she responded to Quinn. "I know how much family and duty means to you, Q, I get that. But I don't want to die, I don't want you to die, and I don't want B and Rach to die. We can work…"

"She's already dead, San. She's a danger. I don't know how you can let her be so close to you right now." Quinn stated darkly, eyes flinty as she watched Berry remove her blood-soaked temporary bandaging.

"Rachel would be if she really liked drinking blood." Britt interjected before Santana could answer, earning sharp laughter from the hunter. Though to be honest, that all faded into the background, as watching Berry cut her own finger with sharp fangs had Santana a little mesmerized for the moment. With as much trepidation as she'd probably ever witnessed, the diva hovered her bleeding finger over the wound, fanged teeth biting her lower lip as Rachel pressed the digit against her wounded, tender flesh.

It stung like hell at first, making her writhe in pain from the contact and the memories of how much it had hurt in the kitchen when the knife had slit through her. However, the acute agony slowly faded into a dull ache, and within seconds, her thigh was a bloody mess with a faint scar where the knife wound had been. Her eyes shot to Rachel's wounded mocha ones staring up at her with such sadness that it was a struggle not to pull Berry up for a hug. There'd be time for plenty of that later, when Q was dealt with. Just the knowledge that Rachel could heal her, that she would take care of her when hurt, was enough for the moment. For the first time since the diva arrived, her heart felt lighter, and that feeling was worth holding onto.

"…gets this look like she's just had to eat my Aunt Cindy's mango-rhubarb pie, and like, it's sad that she really hates it and we have to force her to drink." Britt claimed, drawing Santana's attention back to the blondes, a pang of guilt echoing in her chest from Rachel having to be away for so long, and for having to drink more blood than usual. "My uncle had to hold her down so we could pour it in her mouth, just to make sure she could…well, do stuff. Like get up and walk around and talk without being super tired and achy."

Blindly, she reached for Rachel, finding her hand quickly, shooting Britt an apologetic look before turning her focus to the diva. Rachel looked about as small as ever, shrinking in on herself, gaze averted to the floor, frowning like it was her day job.

"Rachel…" She'd wanted to just say the girl's name casually, but it cracked and splintered on its way out and if that wasn't enough evidence for how she cared for the vampire, Santana wasn't sure what would be. Disregarding all attempts at hiding their closeness, she tugged at the diva, who quickly let Santana envelop her in a tight hug. She heard Quinn gasp, probably out of misguided fear she'd be bit or something, but ignored it in favor of focusing on comforting her friend, and maybe even herself in the process.

"She's not a threat, she's, like, a vegan. Blood's super grody to her." Britt insisted once more, Quinn scoffing in disbelief at the mere notion of non-dangerous vampires. Santana was pretty sure Q had been taught all about them, and while that all could be helpful elsewhere, Rachel wasn't dangerous. She just wasn't.

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" Quinn added, as if everyone else in the room hadn't already heard the question in the girl's wordless gesture.

Santana lifted her face from the crook of Rachel's neck and offered the hunter a stony glare. "Yes."

Quinn bit her lip as she shook her head slowly, brow furrowing as the girl seemed to sink deep into thought. Her voice, seconds later, was dull and resigned, seeming to understand that she wouldn't sway Santana away from their sides. "What do you want from me, then?"

"To be our friend. To have our backs, like you promised. To be the unholy trinity." Santana practically pleaded as she hugged Rachel tighter, hoping to let Berry know that she too was wanted and included.

"Impossible." Quinn shot out harshly, and the shift from recoiling in shock to pure anger on Britt's face had Santana speaking faster than she could think up things to say.

"No it's not, Q. We have love for you, you're family, you always have been. You know me, Quinn. When I make a promise, I stick with it, and I promised to have your back…but I also promised I'd keep Rachel safe. So…so I need you to tell me, Q, how am I supposed to handle that?" She asked, her frantic voice calming as she rambled, softly asking her captain for some leadership. For some direction on how to handle a situation that threatened to tear her in two opposite directions.

Quinn's hazel eyes were frigid as they bore a hole into her and Berry's embrace. "That thing you're holding isn't her, San. It isn't Rachel." The blonde spoke slowly and firmly, her tone brooking no argument with her on the matter, though Rachel tensing at the remark, whimpering ever so audibly at the pointed words, hurt. And so she did what she always did when hurt.

"Who are you to even say that, Q?! I don't…I don't give a shit how brainwashed you are about this crap, but you don't see her every day, crying over her lost family her lost dreams! You're not the one who sees that she's only happy when she can feel like the crazy ambitious teenage girl she was months ago! She gets upset at the mere mention of blood, Q. But give her a pack of vegan gummi worms and she goes to her happy place, just like when she sings and I see that obnoxious girl who would wake up at six every morning to work out and fantasize about Broadway and vegan recipes and glee championships, so don't tell me she's some soulless shell of who she used to be because it's not fucking true!" She ranted, her lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, forcing deep breaths to regain her breath and her composure.

But it wasn't that simple, the floodgates had been opened, and it was all she could do to gently remove herself from Rachel and tromp over to the other end of the room to hide her tears. Everything was just so confusing and shitty, and crying yet again had her feeling like she was so much weaker than everyone else, and that was hard to handle. B was a werewolf, yet Rachel had come to her for protection. Who was she to protect anyone? Quinn was human too, but she could have killed her in the kitchen had she the full desire to do so. It was all such a mess, and Santana wasn't sure exactly what to do with herself anymore. Was it too much to ask that everything just settle down for a little while?

Truth was, she liked Rachel, and hated seeing the diva in pain and doubting her humanity, despite the wealth of evidence to the contrary. That was enough for Santana, so why couldn't it be enough for Quinn?

"We'd really like it if you were on our side, Quinn." Britt spoke lowly, her voice steely and about as dangerous as she'd ever heard her before.

"And if I won't be? You and San won't kill me…I know you too well to believe that. And if you're telling the truth, the vampire won't either." Quinn shot back, and Santana didn't need to look back at the duo to know there were glares on both sides. Glares when there should be, well, something else. Something better, at least.

"I'm not going to stand for you trying to bully your way through this. You're chained up, what choice do you have? We're gonna let you go eventually, but Quinn…if your family tries to hunt down Santana and Rachel, my lodge will get rid of them. And maybe, if you're lucky, I'd let you still…" Britt's words came out hard and furious and Santana just wanted to hug her BFF and calm her down. She didn't want to hear what B would do to Quinn if she ratted them out. Maybe if it was someone else threatening them, but this was Q.

"Brittany, if I may have a word in private, with Quinn, please?" Rachel interjected, abruptly ending Brittany's warning to the restrained hunter, their mutual friend. "Why don't you and Santana bring the pizzas downstairs and start the movie up? I know they must be cooled off by now, but with how you eat, it'll just help you not burn the roof of your mouth, Brittany. I think we've had enough pain and bloodshed for today."

Taking that as a sign to leave, and an opportunity to just clear her head with some food and entertainment, Santana wiped her face with one of Rachel's spare blankets and moved toward the door. She stopped as she passed Rachel, allowing her hand to lightly rub the paler girl's shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, before continuing out of the room and back into the rec room.

Santana knew everything had changed as the storage room door clicked shut behind her, but she hoped beyond hope that she could hold onto what she had when she got home from school that afternoon. Even if it was with desperation, and even if it meant the rest of her world would crumble around her, she could manage. With Rachel, Quinn and Britt alongside her, she could manage.

She just wasn't sure she could without them all.


	6. Chapter 6

Rachel pressed her weight against the storage room door once it was closed again, her palms flat on the surface, trying to visualize her anger seeping into the wood and out of her body. Throughout her life, she'd used many methods to clear herself of hurt and anger, but perhaps it was fitting that for once they were all failing, given that she wasn't technically alive anymore. Still, it only elevated her fury over her person, her favourite person, getting hurt, and because the door was no longer a suitable sit-in target for her rage, she spun around to face the blonde who'd caused it all in the first place.

"How dare you." She grit out, clenching her hands into fists at her side, wishing each syllable could splinter into physical form and pierce the intruder in front of her. She wished her words could hurt the blonde as much as Santana was hurting, because she could practically feel her precious housemate's pain, and it was heart-wrenching.

Despite her best efforts at controlling her anger, Rachel felt it flood her with a primal rush of adrenaline that was immediately foreign to her, amplifying her senses enough that she could hear Santana and Brittany's heartbeats in the other room. Brittany's calm, steady beat, while Santana's heart's rate was still elevated, pounding away in her chest like a battle drum. Like when Quinn hit Santana, or like when the two had slammed hard against the kitchen floor. Rachel had felt panic infest her when she understood what was going on, and it was only Britt's arms holding her in place that had kept her from darting upstairs to help. To stop it all. To stop HER from hurting her Santana.

Quinn met her glare with a fierce one of her own, and Rachel couldn't help but feel absolutely disgusted by the blonde's presence. "Quinn Fabray, how dare you come in here and tear apart her life like this."

The blonde at least seemed to have the shame to soften and avert her glare at that, so Rachel allowed her former friend to stew over what she'd done for a few extra seconds. "I was..." Quinn started, only to swallow and harden her gaze as she looked back up at Rachel. "What, are you going to hurt me now, so she won't have to? So you can get your fill while keeping up your facade? What'll it be, torture? Will you drain me slowly until I beg for death? Or are you just going to taunt me over what I've lost?"

Rachel was stunned by the blonde's gall to even consider those questions. It was so absurd that her anger nearly died off in favour of confusion. Nearly. The final word of the blonde's ensured her fury made a healthy comeback.

"What YOU'VE lost? You...you came in here and attacked Santana! You butchered her leg! What YOU lost?! You BROKE this!" Rachel raged, stomping across the room to loom over Quinn. The whispering thoughts of slaying the blonde for her insolence, and for the pain she'd caused to her most precious of friends, were growing more and more palatable, and Rachel could feel her hands twitching, ready to do something to inflict whatever was necessary to ensure Quinn knew not to harm Santana again. To not even consider touching her again.

But no, that wouldn't do. It, that barely filtered fury wasn't her, and it wasn't what Santana would want. While it took a few long seconds and some rather intense breathing techniques, she managed to still her hands and use her voice instead. "Santana is terrified right now, and not of me...she's scared of YOU." Rachel added, throwing her best piercing glare at the night's most unwelcome guest.

She watched the blonde's stony expression crumble away, leaving a wounded, defeated face in its wake. "You must know how Santana is, Quinn, so I won't patronize you so much to tell you what's going through her head. You know that everything you lost tonight, you've accomplished on your own. And if I wasn't a hundred percent certain that I would be sending you back home tonight to a home full of horrible people, and that hurting you would hurt Santana and I exponentially more, I would beat your face bloody. I don't have many people in my life anymore, Quinn, but you hurt the person whom I care about the most. I would have you suffer for that, but... Santana might be scared of you, but she still loves you, and I can't deny I still find myself inexplicably caring for you the tiniest bit, so I won't touch you."

"I'm not some wet behind the ears amateur, vampire. Let's just get this over with, no need to play with your food." Quinn spat back, the sheer venom behind the words shocking Rachel to the core, given what she'd just said to the blonde. Sure, she knew that if Quinn was indeed a hunter as she seemed to be, she likely had come across a few vampires in her time. Probably some who were horrible like the ones who attacked her. However, to expect such brutality of her?

Unthinkable. Rachel took a long collection of seconds to tame her rage, believing a shift in tone was required to figure out exactly where Quinn's head space was, and to, for Santana's sake, possibly win the idiotic, dogmatic blonde to their side. Not anything she expected to accomplish in a single discussion, but she was Rachel Berry, and she'd give it her all, as she always did. Santana had hurt enough tonight, and it all ending on a sour, combative note wasn't what her best friend deserved. No, Santana deserved more than there were words to describe.

"I'm no barbarian, Quinn. I didn't choose what happened to me." She started, earning an immediate scoff, hard in the clear disbelief Quinn felt over her words. "I didn't. I hate this more than anything, and as much as I want to hate you for what you did to Santana, it's really the only thing I have room in my heart to truly hate. I know why you hunt vampires, Quinn. I understand."

Quinn's laughter, at that point, was fairly predictable, given her former friend clearly felt quite strongly that she was heartless, or lacked a moral conscience, or a soul, or whatever differentiated vampires from humans aside from the whole 'no-blood-pumping-in her-veins' aspect. Quinn HAD said she wasn't truly Rachel, so it was unlikely to be chalked up by simply being 'unnatural'. The books she and Santana had read never quite came up with a consensus on the matter.

"Oh, wow. I'm just dying to hear this." The blonde drawled, rolling her eyes about as hard as she'd ever seen anyone do, which was impressive, given it almost carried the weight Santana tended to infuse into the movement. And really, Santana had it down to an art.

Rachel decided to push through Quinn's sarcasm and continue her clarification, given the blonde had nowhere to go, and she really needed to defuse the situation as best as possible, and was likely the only one capable of doing so. "The person who turned me was a horrible creature. He was malicious, sadistic, and after turning me, he left me to die. The vampire the prince sent after he and I was a monster with an unnaturally potent cruelty streak...he had no qualms torturing me for his pleasure. They were horrid, despicable, and worthy of being targeted for what they've done and what they were. I can only imagine there are many others like them out there."

"Don't play innocent, vampire. You've been around for months, there's no chance you haven't killed by now." Quinn's words came out in a flinty growl, sounding far different than the sweet Quinn or the HBIC Quinn. No, this one was different; weathered and angrier.

"I'm not purely innocent, no. I've already killed." She added, toying with a dismissive tone in hopes of getting Quinn a little further from her comfort zone after her initial set-up. It worked, if the grinding of the blonde's teeth and the cold smirk were any indication. "I killed the vampire who tortured me, and tried to sentence me, with a makeshift stake."

Quinn literally recoiled in her chair, even if just slightly; it was evidence enough that she'd done something uncharacteristic, and that was a nice piece of foundation to build upon. Rachel smiled as she recalled her trial sessions with Santana. "We tested it out here, San and I, and honestly it doesn't make sense that I wouldn't be able to. I can wield a stake like any other, but it does burn like nothing else if I even press it lightly over my heart. When Brittany came into the fold, we discussed varying types of vampires, and varying abilities, but there's so much we don't know. At least now I know that while I heal unnaturally, I can also heal others the same way."

Rachel stepped away from Quinn, deciding to slowly pace the narrow path between the clutter at the blonde's feet over to the far wall and back again as she continued her spiel, having given Quinn ample time to speak up and fill the silence instead. "I also need blood at least once a week to function properly, as sad as that makes me. My senses are heightened, and I'm slightly stronger and faster after taking blood, but aside from what I've mentioned, I haven't noticed much of anything noteworthy. Santana still bests me in training basically every time."

"Where do you get the blood?" Quinn asked, and it was as much of a sign of victory as Rachel could have hoped for. There was still some accusation in the girl's tone, but her wording implied that there wasn't an expectation that she fed off others. Clearly, the girl would have noticed if Santana or Brittany had been fed from, even without markings, given the lower energy levels that would likely follow.

"Santana gets it somewhere. I don't ask questions, I just drink it through a straw little by little so I don't vomit." Rachel answered calmly, finding the flash of indignation in the blonde's eyes curious.

"Vampires don't get sick from blood, they're addicted to it, they need it. You talk yourself up convincingly, but that's just a given, vampire." Quinn's amused grin was a little confusing, if only because her former friend was so gosh darned certain of what she'd spoken. Quinn likely encountered a number of vampires, and had family who had encountered perhaps dozens more. Certainly there was truth to that, but where did it leave her?

Rachel sat down on a box across from Quinn and ran a hand through her hair, trying to compile her thoughts and theories into something cohesive. "After I feed, there's a tingling in the back of my head making me feel like I want more, but the nausea overwhelms it, and so I barely take in any blood. Just what sustains me and keeps me from slipping into a coma." Rachel stated, earning a sceptical quirked eyebrow from the blonde. "Look, Quinn, you have more experience than me, and I don't doubt the vampires you've come across have been horrible and addicted to blood, but what if all vampires aren't like that? There are different types that I've heard about, different...bloodlines, so...so wouldn't it make sense for different feeding habits to exist?"

Blonde tresses flowed from side to side as Quinn shook her head, adamantly rejecting the notion. "No. Vampirism is an unholy virus that plagues people's corpses and makes them thirst for blood. It's simple."

"And yet here I sit, not remotely feeling the urge to drink from you. Assault you, certainly, but not feed. I've spent months feeling little to no compulsion to drink from Santana. Maybe...maybe if you don't drink much at all, you don't get addicted and twisted? Maybe you keep a part of yourself?" She asked openly in hopes of forcing the blonde to think, though it seemed neither of them had the answers to that query at the moment, Quinn just tossing her a pensive glance before averting her eyes to another area of the room.

"My maker barely fed me enough to turn me, but I also don't drink much, which I personally chalk up to my veganism. Which would only remain intact if I held onto my humanity, or at least a good chunk of it." She continued, earning another questioning look from the blonde, who really did seem to be considering her words even if Quinn was trying to make it look like she wasn't. "Think of it like...God made humans embody sin, right? That was the aftermath of original sin."

Quinn nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing at Rachel. "You could say something of the sort, yeah. But don't try twisting my religion on me, vampire."

"I'm not, just...consider how Catholics repent for their sins, and say as many hail marys as necessary to do so. What if, for every sin before repentance, people feel the pull toward sin more? Whether it's the frayed connection with the faith and church, or simply the pull of base desires and urges, many living people give into their sins and become creatures of sin, just in human form, with the ability to repent if they believe. Whereas those who refrain from their natural desires and instincts stay as free of sin as possible. Like, nuns, for instance." Rachel rambled, knowing she was likely talking Quinn's ear off, but the feigned boredom across the blonde's face was enough for her to know that her former friend was indeed listening. Well, that, and Quinn's eyes followed her, a slight crease between her brow exposing her interest.

"Yeah, yeah, people sin and people keep to the faith. But vampires? Pretty cut and dry. Leviticus chapter seventeen, verse fourteen: 'You shall not eat the blood of any flesh at all, because life of the flesh is in the blood, and whosoever eateth it shall be cut off.' Nothing new there, vampire, so let's get this over with, I'm tired of hearing you abuse my friend's corpse." Quinn shot back at her, though Rachel had no intentions of fulfilling her wishes or rising to the slightly painful bait.

"But it could be different with vampires; I'm not so different than a human, I'm just… tainted. And with that reality, we can't go anywhere to repent. We have to put in the work ourselves. It's like faith is abstinence, and drinking blood is falling into sin and addiction. The more blood I drink, the further from grace I become, until I won't even feel my faith anymore, I won't sense it. And I wouldn't be able to remember who I was, because that sinning would be more permanent, it would change me into something unrecognizable, because second chances won't exist for me and other vampires. So I do my best to abstain whenever I can. It's the only way I've been able to make sense of it all. Humans can't lose their souls, but vampires probably can, and some might lose them as they're made if they're bad enough. Maybe that's why many are monstrous." Rachel finished, hoping one of her own personal theories on vampirism, at least the most religiously geared one, would help win Quinn over, or even just get the girl to feel less certain about what she thinks she knows.

Quinn appeared much less bored as her hazel eyes bore into Rachel's own brown ones, that brow even more furrowed. "It doesn't work like that." The girl noted weakly, visibly chiding herself afterwards, likely over her hesitant, uncertain tone.

"Do you believe that because your parents told you so, what your hunter group believes, or because you've independently investigated it for yourself? Has no vampire shown any semblance of humanity?" She asked, and it was enough to have the blonde biting her lip, even if just for a second. Clearly Quinn was a hunter, but she wasn't a hardened veteran quite yet. She imagined they wouldn't crumble under interrogation or after having their knowledge challenged.

Still, it felt nice to have Quinn questioning things, even if just a little bit. It meant she could start negotiating. Despite most definitely holding a grudge against the blonde, Rachel knew it was best to be diplomatic. "You know you're welcome to return here after tonight and spend time with us, given Santana's approval. I would honestly enjoy having someone else around, as much as I love spending time with Santana and Brittany. I just don't know if I could trust you not to kill me. So I have an offer for you."

Quinn's eyebrow quirked once more, the girl's attention keenly focused on her still. "Oh? And what's that?"

"Watch me. I kept some of the cameras you and your family planted here, and I'd be happy to set them up in my room for you to peruse at will. My two conditions are that you do not kill me or expose the footage to anyone who could possibly feel the need to put Santana in danger after witnessing it, and that you don't make an attempt to destroy me for at least two months." It was a fair offer, she figured. Quinn would get to see how human and normal she was, and that could lead to mending their previous friendship as well as Santana and Quinn's. It came at the cost of her privacy, and likely her sanity, but it was a small sacrifice to make if it would help her best friend.

"You'd record video of yourself, and keep yourself under surveillance." Quinn stated flatly, clearly suspicious of her intent still. Which was idiotic, but she knew with such a history, it wouldn't be easy to convince Quinn that she was the same Rachel Berry from glee.

"I would let you watch and record video of me, yes. However, it WOULD probably be quite boring. I mostly just read books, or write in my journal while Santana sleeps. And even when I spend time with her, it's rarely much more than watching Netflix together on the couch, or singing karaoke...things like that. And that's outside of my room, which means I won't be on video there, but I do spend the majority of my time in my nook being very boring given my limited options for socializing and activities." She added, feeling the need to prime Quinn with what to expect from the recordings. They truly would be quite dull. Perhaps humanizing, but dull.

The blonde was quiet for a few minutes, her gaze having fallen to the floor as Quinn shifted deeper in thought. Rachel wasn't sure the blonde would buy into her play, but she hoped the girl would. It was, to her understanding, the best way to win Quinn over to their side, to cast doubt. She'd seen how the Fabray family worked in the past, and she'd seen how their faith and trust functioned. It was strong, almost relentlessly so, but at the first sign of weakness, at the first minor crack, it would splinter and collapse. She just needed to find a way in, to get Quinn questioning her loyalty, and then they would be there to pick up the pieces.

Sure, it was a bit of a long shot, but the family had broken once around Quinn before. It could happen again, especially with the newly unified family being so early into its second run together. Rachel had heard of the abuse Quinn suffered before, so it wasn't as if she planted the seeds of destruction with a heavy heart. She'd liked Quinn, and had still pursued friendship with her despite their adversarial dynamic through high school; keeping Quinn safe may have been secondary to keeping Santana and herself safe, but it was still a goal she was mindful of.

"Okay...alright. I think I'll take that offer, but I need you to answer some questions first." Quinn stated quietly, letting out a tired sigh before lifting her head to look at Rachel for a response. Given she'd be letting Quinn into her life in the near future anyway; she didn't see the harm in a few questions, so Rachel gave a small nod. "Is your sire dead?"

Rachel shook her head at the question, feeling fairly comfortable in her answer. "I don't believe so. We've been tracking missing persons reports across western Ohio, and while there haven't been many lately in Lima, just two in the past two months, three more have gone missing in Bowling Green over the that time span, which is just a ways north of here. I'm fairly sure he's still alive."

Quinn gave a small nod, not looking surprised in the least, so Rachel assumed the blonde had come to similar conclusions already. "How were you turned?"

"That party I went to in Carmel? It...well, it was horrible, and I left early. I stopped at a store to get some snacks for an impromptu movie night, and on my way out I was ambushed. He dragged me back to his van and drained me, fed me, then dumped me in a ditch. I haven't seen him since." She answered honestly, feeling a little more at ease in spilling the story this time around than she had with Santana or Brittany.

"And since you're a vampire, you feed. You must have fed off someone by now. You said the other vampires tortured you, which means you had to have been low on blood. Santana said she found you bleeding out." Quinn challenged, clearly trying to find an angle to sharpen the image the blonde had made of her, one Rachel had been attempting to soften over the past few minutes.

"Brittany, in her wolf form, chased Santana away and urged me to feed from her. I took just enough to get up and walk, and vomited most of the rest of it, but it got me far enough. It got me to Santana's." Rachel answered, cutting Quinn off when the girl went to speak again, having a good idea of what the blonde was going to ask. "Why her? Hard as it may be to believe, Quinn, it wasn't her fairly isolated home or the fact that our pseudo-rivalry would keep people off my trail. She...she listened to me."

Quinn let out an amused scoff, which was a good sign that conversation was getting a tiny bit more amicable, at the very least. Baby steps.

"That's a first. What, you told her you were a vamp and she believed you?" Quinn asked, that familiar eyebrow cocked questioningly, reminding her of all those encounters in high school that honestly seemed so petty now.

"Well, that came later. She tried to call 911 when she found me, and told me my dad who worked there would take care of me. When I told her I couldn't be taken to the hospital, she listened, and she accepted that. Turns out, she had ideas that my dad was a torture porn addict or a crazy serial killer, and thought I had to be kept safe from him. Given my injuries and the disappearances, and how I was the first...I can see why she might have thought that, but...either way, she believed me. And when I told her about myself, she went out and got snacks and research material instead of doing the logical thing and kicking me out or staking me." Rachel rambled, hoping her explanation would be good enough to convince Quinn, feeling that being less concise about it all might draw on some familiarity and further her cause. Sure, it was natural to be wordy, but she was alright using her natural impulses as tools of manipulation if necessary.

Quinn let out another tired sigh as she slumped back in her chair, shaking her head. "San's always been a softie." The girl muttered, the grimace on Quinn's face almost hiding the tiny amused curl on her lips.

"I'm aware of that now, yes. I feel I understand now why you and Brittany were so close with Santana through the years." Rachel made no attempt at hiding her smile as she thought back on all that her raven-haired housemate had done for her, and how enjoyable the girl was to be around.

"Speaking of B...when did she enter the picture?" Quinn asked hastily, leaning a little forward and fidgeting with her fingers a bit, looking a little curious, a slight blush on her cheeks. Rachel knew Brittany had managed to catch Quinn off guard. It wasn't any wonder that it might have shaken Quinn to learn that a good friend of hers had been a werewolf, and her hunter training hadn't helped tip her off.

Rachel moved closer and took a seat on a nearby box, one she suspected was filled with books or albums given how rigid and heavy it was. "The day Santana left for State Championships, Brittany told her the house would be invaded, and that I needed to get out early. Brittany's wolf friends took me to a safe hiding spot until the coast was clear."

"Today." Quinn shot out, earning a quick nod from Rachel, one she hoped showed her annoyance at Quinn crashing her homecoming party. "So...how close have you and San gotten?"

Rachel wasn't quite sure how to answer that, offering a Santana-esque shrug as she leaned back against the wall, reminiscing about Santana's part in the latest portion of her life. "I'd be lost without her, to put it simply. I don't have much left anymore, and she keeps me sane. I...I hear her leave for school, and come home from school, and it's a constant reminder that I'll never have that again. I'll never feel the sun on my face, I'll never see the blue sky live and in person again, I'll never be able to spend a day at the beach, or go to a glee reunion barbecue one summer afternoon, I'll never be able to go to NYADA or make Broadway, and I'll never be able to share success stories with Barbra Streisand, who would have taken up an aging mentor role to guide me through the world of show business. And I know Santana tells me that I could get to Broadway, that it's not impossible, but it is, and it's horrible, and it makes every day painful, but having Santana here with me for even a little while...she manages to make everything alright again."

Rachel let herself get back up to her feet again, pacing closer to the doorway as she continued, her mouth spitting out words on autopilot, never really having had anyone to express these thoughts to before. "I'll never see my parents again, I'll never be hugged by them, or hear their bickering over breakfast and whether pancakes were better than waffles, or what type of coffee was best. I'll never have them cheer me on at my first big performance, I'll never have them at my side when I get married, I'll never be able to bear children and bring them home to my dads...I'll never be a complete person again. That was stolen from me. I'm a ghost now, just a memory to the people I cared for in life. I've lost so much, Quinn. And despite everything, Santana takes that pain away and can make me smile and feel normal again. And because of that, I know I'm not fully human anymore, but I know I have humanity left, and I cannot thank Santana enough for that. I have my bad days, and she's always there to remind me of who I am. So have we gotten close? I...I believe we have."

When Rachel allowed herself to truly focus back on Quinn after her rant, she knew she'd hit her mark somewhere in her ranting. The girl looked stricken, even if it was clear the hunter was trying to hide the reaction, perhaps behind a shred of regret as well. "Ra...uh, look. Santana likes you."

The three words felt warm in Rachel's heart, the more than subtle peripheral sensation bringing a smile to her face. The fact that Quinn actually referred to her by her name nearly eluded her given the distraction. "I'm happy she does. I enjoy being around her as well."

"No, she...Santana LIKES you, Rachel." Quinn added with a grimace and glassy hazel eyes, her emphasis worryingly opening Rachel's mind to a number of scenarios she hadn't considered before, and she wasn't sure how to feel about them. On one hand, her instincts had drawn her closer to Santana over the past months, and to follow her desire to be near the girl as often as possible. It wasn't exactly an instinct she was uncomfortable to follow, given how much she adored her housemate, and she was able to admit she had a clingy personality as well.

However, on the other hand, she was a vampire, and Santana had a beating heart. Sure, she cared deeply for Santana, and knew Santana cared for her as well to some degree, but if Quinn's assertion that Santana was romantically interested was true, even if just slightly romantically, then she wasn't sure that was best for her raven-haired friend. Truthfully, Santana deserved someone who could offer more. Rachel wasn't sure she'd decline if Santana approached her, and would probably be a little heartbroken if she had to, but ideally, her best friend would find love elsewhere.

Which brought to mind an easy, digestible answer for the blonde who was waiting eagerly, perhaps desperately, for a response.

"I'll never be enough for her. If Santana does have...feelings for me, which I personally doubt...she'll get over them eventually. And if not, I'm sure I could prepare a song to help her understand." She stated firmly, or as much as she could manage given the thoughts warring in her mind, rationality fighting to the death against desire.

"You like her back?" Quinn asked, and Rachel would have smiled if it wasn't spoken so sadly by the blonde, if the question didn't twist a knife into her very existence. It should have felt like a victory to have Quinn seeing her as a person, believing in some aspect of her humanity and ability to care for another, but it simply felt like loss. Because as much as the idea of herself and Santana together was lovely, and compelling, and wonderful, and just about the best romantic scenario for her, it would trap Santana in her world, and that wasn't what she wanted for Santana. She didn't want to cage her. Perhaps it was premature, but she loved Santana too much to lead her to that pasture.

Rachel straightened her posture and put on the best show smile she could manage. "It doesn't matter. I won't be the person to make her happy that way. There's no point in pursuing it. Santana will have someone warm, someone she can spend days with AND nights with, and go travel to Europe with, and sing in broad daylight to atop the Eiffel Tower. Wishing myself upon her in that sense...no. Maybe I have been selfish in the past to a large degree in the realm of romance, but I'm not making the same mistake, I'm not cruel. I won't have her lose what I've lost."

The soft utterance of a curse word drew Rachel back from her thoughts of Santana being married on some beach at night, Rachel a bridesmaid, or perhaps even a maid of honour, but not the bride. It was a sad thought, almost jarringly so as she felt tendrils of desire to perhaps be that person for her best friend, to stand with her and exchange vows. Still, Santana had a chance at a normal life, and Rachel wouldn't rob her of that. Santana deserved the world on a silver platter, and she couldn't have that only being able to experience the night cycle with a vampire at her side. They could still be the closest of friends, still be affectionate as usual, but just not romantically involved, or, well, lovers.

One look at Quinn provided, for the first time that night, a look of true understanding between them both. The blonde's words only speaking what Rachel had concluded already. "You...you might actually be her. You might actually be Rachel."

Her name sounded like the tiniest crack on a pane of glass, and Rachel resigned herself to happiness in that Quinn was already halfway to hearing them out and coming back into the fold with Santana and Brittany again. A quiet voice in her head spoke of a possible higher magnitude of happiness, of opportunities, of love, but she drowned it out by offering the best smile she could given the circumstances, deciding their little chat had just about ran its course.

* * *

The moment the doorknob turned, Santana froze. Thankfully, Brittany was quick enough on the draw to pause the movie, both tensing up as the door swung open, the flash of blonde hair that passed into the rec room startling the young wolf to move forward. Now, seeing Quinn exit first had Santana more than a little scared and on edge, especially since Q was wearing all her shit and holding some of her weapons in her arms, but she trusted Rachel; and it only took a half second of holding Britt's wrist to keep her from jumping the gun to spot the smaller brunette following the blonde out.

It was odd, as she scanned both of their faces, Rachel's full of determination and Quinn's burning up with shame and guilt. It was rare to see Quinn appear avoidant, yet it was clear that Q was emotional as fuck and wanted to get the hell out of dodge as fast as possible. Brittany, despite their lengthy friendship, stood guard, clearly ready to defend them. Santana itched to reach out for Quinn as she'd done so many times in the past, her body's muscle memory battling with her heartache over the blonde's betrayal. Rachel, stereotypical as it might have been, defaulted to words.

"You have the address, correct, Quinn?" Berry asked, stilling the retreating blonde and forcing Quinn to turn back toward them all at the foot of the stairwell.

"I do, you went over it enough times, and I have it written down and encoded. We're good." The blonde noted with frustration, though Santana could tell it was more to do with Q spending more time than she'd like in that room than it was with Rachel. Still, the way blondie's brows furrowed, the slight biting of her right cheek, it all had Santana knowing the hunter was devastatingly sad. Which, honestly, was fucking confusing as hell, given how they'd left the blonde earlier. Santana only felt conflict knowing Rachel must have done a number on the girl, a big mix of pride and empathy.

"And you'll keep your end of it?" The brunette added, drawing a stilted nod from the taller girl. "Good. As I said before, you know how to get a hold of me if you need to. Be safe on your way home, Quinn, it's dangerous around here at night."

With that, Quinn practically ran out of the basement, and a few seconds later, the front door was slammed shut, signaling the departure of a girl Santana had once considered among her closest friends, if not her closest. A girl she wasn't sure how to describe anyone, a girl whose place in her life she wasn't sure of anymore.

It capped an emotional end to the absolute fiasco of a night, and it was all she could do to simply sit back down on the couch instead of collapse onto it in grief. The ghost of the pain Quinn had caused against her thigh still remained, if just barely, but it was enough to wonder what she hadn't done to keep Quinn's trust.

Hell, Russell beat her black and blue, while Q's mom did her best to ignore the abuse and pretend it didn't happen. Frannie, from what Santana understood, occasionally taunted Quinn over being the favourite and Q being the black sheep failure. At what point did she get outbid by those assholes when it came to Quinn's loyalty and affection? It didn't make sense, and she didn't know how to fix it.

"Hey, I'm sorry to back out of the sorta-aborted party, but...I need to tell my lodge about this, like, right now. You understand, right?" Brittany asked quietly, a sad pout on her face; it was the sweet thing about B, that the girl hated leaving her friends when they were upset or hurt. She was a good friend, but at the same time, Santana understood that as much as she needed her friend at the moment, she needed protection, too.

"It's okay, B. It'd be cool if you could stay, but I know you need to go." Santana acquiesced, leaning forward into Britt's hug, hoping that Britt would keep safe, given all that had happened. She watched the blonde bounce over to Rachel for another hug and a few quiet words before slipping upstairs and out of the home, the sound of Britt pulling out of the driveway finally drawing the diva closer to the couch.

Honestly, Santana hadn't noticed at the time, too shaken up from seeing Quinn again, and witnessing both her and Britt's departures, but it was strange that Rachel was so distant since emerging from the storage room. The diva had been in that room with Quinn for a long time, and it had Santana's head abuzz with a storm of thoughts that threatened to eat away at her sanity. Every second that passed had a dozen cross her mind, but when Rachel plopped down beside her, she allowed one to be vocalized. Or, well, the most important one.

"You okay, chiclet?" Santana asked, her words seeming to startle her friend, whose face morphed into confusion.

"I expect questions about the blatant deal I struck with Quinn, what Brittany talked to me about, what Quinn said to me in there, if I did anything to Quinn, if I inadvertently did anything to you by healing you, or any other sorts of questions, so...so why not just...get those over with?" Rachel rambled out at a breakneck pace, her syllables nearly slurring into one another, a sign that the brunette was feeling more than a little anxious or nervous.

Santana just took hold of one of Rachel's hands and tugged her closer, for Rachel to lean against her. "I'm too tired for any of that, Rach. I just need to know if you're okay." She whispered, needing Rachel to understand that she was at her limit, and just needed things to be simple for a little while.

Rachel's gaze felt like it was boring deep under her skin, witnessed all she was feeling, and it all felt a bit much; thankfully, the diva turned back toward the TV and pulled Santana closer so that they were both curled up against the arm of the couch. "I am, Santana. I'm alright." The brunette noted quietly, Santana feeling Rachel's arm wrap around her waist. "But I know you're not, so why don't we just...watch the rest of this movie, okay?"

Santana felt herself freeze up at Rachel's assertion, and did her best to let it roll off her shoulders. Sure, she'd had a hell of a night, but she was the one that was supposed to be protecting Rachel and keeping her safe; the diva worrying over her just wasn't how it was supposed to go. "I'm always up for more movies, but I'm good, Rach." She spoke as confidently as she could, her finger pressing down on the remote to start up the movie again, hoping it'd lead to less talking.

Though, with Rachel at her side, perhaps she should have known better that a movie wouldn't deter the girl. First came the gentle touches skimming up and down her side; in her time at the Lopez house, it hadn't taken long for Rachel to find out what spots tended to reduce her into a melted puddle of a person, and it wasn't particularly surprising that Berry would play dirty. Any hopes that it would end there, and not escalate, were dashed when she felt Rachel's nose nuzzling into her hair.

Santana wanted to be mad that Rachel was pushing; normally, they'd just cuddle up and watch stuff in silence, and the simplicity of it all had helped ground her to all the craziness of the past months. It was what she wanted once more after a night that had turned her life upside down, but there was Rachel, wanting to make it more complicated. Try as she might, when Berry's soft, whispered pleads for Santana to open up met her ears, she couldn't drown it out. Not Rachel.

No, her voice was so unfair in its ability to undo her completely, effortlessly tearing down her defenses and forcing Santana to turn in Berry's arms, needing to make one last attempt to stop this in its tracks, because she wasn't sure she could take any more. "Please, Rach, please...why can't we just...let it go...for now?"

Those brown eyes of Rachel's looked so warm in contrast to her cool body, only emphasized when the diva's fingers grazed their way down Santana's cheek, the touch averting Santana's eyes as a natural defense. "You have been all I could have asked for since you took me in, Santana. You've been my lifeline. So please, just this once..." Rachel's words were hardly more audible than the sound of the fingers skimming up and down her back, both sound and touch drawing Santana closer, her body betraying her in taking what Rachel was offering. "Please let me be the one to comfort you."

It was a hard sell, to be truthful. Santana rarely ever let herself be truly vulnerable with anyone, and even her close friends would generally only get to see her upset. The last time she'd broken down, it'd been with Quinn, and now Q was out of her life, and so how could she fully trust Rachel to be that person for her?

Yet, when she looked back at the diva and saw nothing but the warmest affection in the girl's patient gaze, she was reminded of the times Rachel would comfort her after the more difficult experiments on Berry's vampirism. She was reminded of all those hugs across the past months that revealed how much the chiclet cared for her, and how Rachel would do her best to make sure Santana was happy and healthy, and living a normal life outside of the home. And finally, how Rachel had looked so mournful and heartbroken at Santana's injury, and how the girl had so tenderly healed it to take away the pain, or at least the physical form.

That Rachel was offering to help soothe the deeper wounds that had been inflicted on her was unsurprising given her nature, but she'd trusted the diva with so much already. Santana bit her lip as she lowered her head onto Rachel's shoulder, praying the diva would catch her when she fell, already feeling her body and mind swarmed by the fears and hurt that she'd just barely managed to push to the periphery before. She prayed Berry was safe, and as those cool arms pulled her ever so much closer, and soft lips pressed against her temple, she let herself hope she'd eventually be okay.

"Honey, you can let go. I'm not going anywhere." Rachel's whispered words ghosted over her ear, Santana relinquishing her control and just letting herself go slack against the brunette.

The tears came, and the sobs, and the bone-chilling fear that infested her trembling body; she took all the stress and fear from the past months and unshackled it all, needing to be free of the weight that had been crushing her, needing to have some true peace again, even if just for a night. Yet, no matter how much she let go of and piled onto the vampire, Rachel was there, eagerly taking more and more, holding Santana close while the other hand stroked through her hair, rendering her body pleasantly boneless for the time being from its comfort.

They remained there, wrapped up in each other, Rachel's presence a balm on her wounds as all her pain and heartache drifted away, replaced by a soothingly cool comfort, her tears eventually drying, and her sobs shifting to the occasional sniffle. Sure, she'd cuddled with the diva before countless times, but there was a different feel to how Rachel held her this time; she honestly hadn't felt so safe since her mother last held her, and while that was a little confusing given she didn't see Rachel in remotely the same light, it was a feeling she latched onto blissfully as she cleared her mind of anything but the person she was with.

Santana was eventually roused from her peaceful rest by Rachel's hand drifting tentatively up her bicep. "San, are you cold?" The brunette whispered against her ear, the voice eliciting goosebumps across her body for reasons she wasn't sure she was ready to think about too deeply. "I know it can get a tiny bit chilly down here, is all. And...well, I'm me."

Santana angled her head up and reluctantly released an arm from Rachel, pulling her large throw blanket down on top of them before snuggling back down onto her diva. "Better now. And you're fine, Rach...like a permanent cool side of the pillow. It's really nice. You're comfy 'n soft... so don't worry, chiclet." She mumbled, readjusting her position to curl up more comfortably with the brunette, just feeling a slight need to be as close as possible, and like hell if she was about to ignore it. Santana Lopez was past giving up on the good things in her life, and Rachel was damn good.

"Well, that's...um..." Rachel stammered, letting out quiet laughter, sounding oddly shy. "It's a relief to hear you're comfortable with that part of me, San. I...well, anyway, I'm happy you're feeling better, honey. I promise you, I'm going to make this better for you."

Santana smiled, just feeling happy that her housemate was happy, and at the idea of her current peaceful state might be extended. At least, until she realized Rachel might mean something else. "What do you mean?"

"I'm...San, she hurt you. She did, and it's wrong, but you love her, don't you?" Rachel asked, her voice lightly washing over her, bringing back shades of the torment from earlier that night. Berry's arms tightening around her helped soothe her a little, as did the kiss to her crown, but it still stung to be reminded of Quinn's betrayal. Still, Rachel had a point. A painful one, but still valid.

"After tonight, I wish I didn't, Rachel. You don't have to do anything but...you know, help me get my cuddle on." Santana's words slipped into a mumble, feeling her walls slowly erect themselves again at the topic of her affections for Quinn. It was entirely true; she loved Quinn immensely, the girl owned real estate in her heart and that hadn't changed at all, even after their hellish night. Sure, she and Quinn's history was rocky at times, but blondie was, underneath it all, still her Lucy Q.

"You know that's not true, San, on either mark. It's okay...I'll get her back for you. And I'll take care of you." Rachel asserted, sounding more confident as she voiced each promise, ones Santana hoped would be followed up on, even if she felt guilty about it. A big part of her felt betrayed by the blonde, and more than a little scared of her, but there was still part of her that wanted to get things back to how it used to be, back to Q being her most trusted companion. It might be a long shot, but her love for her old friend and Rachel's determination had her heart fluttering with hope.

Which, really, was good enough for Santana to accept, letting that topic drop in favour of focusing on the other. "Rach, like I said before, all I need tonight is you. I'll be okay." Santana spoke, looking up from Rachel's collarbone to try and gauge whether the diva could let the caring act go a little bit. When Berry in turn torpedoed her with those passionate mocha eyes, she couldn't help but sigh. "Chiclet, I'm supposed to be protecting YOU. I'm supposed to be taking care of YOU."

Rachel's head dipped down, those previously pouting lips pressing a feather-light kiss to her forehead. Her eyes closed on instinct, lungs drawing in a steadying slow breath from the feeling of warmth blooming in her chest, not wanting to react in a way that could derail the topic at hand. "I know, honey, and you do it so well. I promise. But right now, and tomorrow, let me give back. Let me help you...you don't have any finals tomorrow, we can stay home and decorate the tree packed away in the attic, and bake cookies, and sing carols, and do everything we were supposed to do last weekend together. Let me have a day...let me take care of you, honey."

Santana could hardly argue against that. She'd yearned to do all their holiday shenanigans, and the offer on the table was enticing. Add to that how comforting and wonderful it felt being close with Rachel, and how she really didn't feel like going to school tomorrow, and it was almost easy to ignore the vulnerability of being the protected person of the two for once.

"You...you wouldn't..." Santana started, shaking her head at the audacity to even start asking the question on her lips.

"I wouldn't what?" Rachel asked right back, thumbs lightly grazing Santana's cheeks, the diva's skin so cool and soft as those hands sent her walls right back down again. Honestly, Santana wasn't sure what was in the air, because she'd never felt so pliable before, her emotions and senses so quick to shift. She felt more exposed than ever, yet she lacked the customary fear, her worries being brushed away with the slightest stroke of her cheek. It was so absurd and crazy, but she couldn't help but just melt and let loose under the diva's touch.

"You wouldn't want someone better? To keep you safe?" Santana finished, eyes very much locked onto a loose strand on Rachel's top, because daring to gaze back into the diva's eyes seemed way too dangerous for her emotions, given how exposed she felt already. Even if Rachel was safe, Santana never wanted to be a wholly open book.

Santana felt Rachel's hand shift from her cheek to the back of her head, cradling it against the diva's chest as they settled back down onto the couch. "I'm safe with you, San. I have no reason to consider anyone else, and me cuddling you into a Christmas themed coma would hardly be a knock against you. Not when you've taken such good care of me, honey."

The diva's words were wonderfully comforting, Santana feeling a little more secure in her place in Rachel's life. And she supposed that curling up with the brunette all tomorrow wouldn't make her THAT soft. And no one else would need to know but Rachel, anyway.

Content enough with the plans Berry had arranged for the both of them, she turned her focus to one thing that had caught her attention since Rachel emerged from the storage room. "So...what's this 'honey' stuff?"

Rachel's hands slowly began massaging Santana's back, a suspicious if damn nice gesture, given what she'd just asked the diva. Almost as if the girl wanted her distracted. "Well, it...um, it fits. You can be really sweet, and...but you know, it doesn't come easy. It takes work, hard work, and time as well, and it makes it all so more precious that you give me the gift of letting me see you that way. So...'honey'. It's just...you call me chiclet, and I always wanted something similar to call you in return, and it just fit, and..." Rachel rambled softly, cheek nuzzling against Santana's during her spiel, the brunette's nervous tone and actions only rendering her more adorable. Sure the explanation of the term of endearment was a bit less verbose than usual, and it was a bit sappy and whatever, but it was so Rachel in its rationale that she couldn't complain one bit. In all honesty, it was kind of awesome in its weird way, Berry being sweet to her in return.

So Santana just leaned up and lightly brushed her lips against Rachel's cheek, stilling the words in the rambling, blushing girl's throat. "I get it, chiclet. And I like it, so no need to worry." She noted in as reassuring a voice as possible, drawing a shy smile from the diva holding her. "Anyway, since you're set on being my protector tonight, why don't we continue the movie marathon, keep getting our cuddle on, and maybe you can tell me about all you have planned for us tomorrow."

Rachel let out a happy sigh, one of those rare dazzling smiles gracing the diva's lips. "I'd love to, honey."

At that, the brunette reached for the remote and changed to the next movie in the disc tray, as Santana grabbed a previously forgotten slice of pizza, all the drama and emotions having stirred up her hunger again. It had been a severely messed up night, and she'd taken far more risks than she'd been fully comfortable with, but ultimately, she was ending it with a smile on her face and her beautiful friend holding her close.

And really, given the circumstances, it was hard to imagine any better attempt to salvage the night. Sure, there was a storm brewing off in the distance, but just for tonight, she could ignore it and bask in the comfort of her newest friendship.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Violence, child abuse, and racist language in the third section of this chapter

Santana peered down at the list in her hand and the three things she hadn't checked off yet: sorghum flour, ground flax seed, and arrowroot powder. Honestly, she expected she'd have to stop off at that shifty health food store downtown for the flour and powder, but she was pretty sure she'd seen the flax seed stuff hanging around her grocery store somewhere, she just had to find it. And when she did, she'd be closer to catching some much needed Zs.

After napping for a bit once they'd finished the movie the previous evening, she and Rachel had spent much of the early morning hours decorating and relaxing. Santana was pretty ready for another nap soon, even though it was mid-morning, but she knew she had a little shopping that needed to be done so they could do the baking Rachel wanted so badly to do. Traditions were important to Rachel, and that made them important to Santana.

Just a half hour longer, and she'd be home. A half hour longer, and Rachel would have the tree assembled, ready for decorating that afternoon when her vampire woke again. A half hour longer and she'd be flopping onto her comfy bed for some well-deserved beauty sleep.

But first, ground flax seed.

Santana made her way through the bulk food section, and then to the baking ingredients aisle, snagging some Oreos on her way as she gleefully set her eyes on a no-name package of ground flax seed. Smiling at her luck, Santana grabbed a bag and tossed in it her cart, doing a rudimentary check for the other missing ingredients before deciding she would indeed need another store for them.

It was on her way out of the aisle that she noticed one Hiram Berry standing in front of the vegan food section, holding a small basket in his hands as he stared sadly at a line of cake mixes. Santana felt as if her heart was being squeezed, just looking at the man, and while she had a reputation for being cold-hearted, she couldn't just...leave him. Could she?

Deciding to just try and help, Rachel's kindness bouncing around her mind, Santana made the trek over to the shelf, unsure of what to even say as he noticed her approach. She watched his sad eyes return focus to the cake mixes, allowing Santana to peek into his basket, spotting a card and envelope, which only made the damn grocery store air harder to breathe.

"It's strange. I came in here to buy milk and eggs, but..." Hiram started, voice hoarse and shaky as his eyes slipped shut. "Rachel used to tease me for buying her birthday cards last minute. I always bought them on her birthday during the morning grocery run. And now..."

Hiram's voice trailed off into a choked sob, and Santana found herself reflexively taking hold of his nearest hand, hoping to provide some semblance of comfort to the grieving father who had his daughter stolen from him. In a sense, she knew how he felt; every year leading up to mother's day, she'd mindlessly find herself doing the same. It was a habit that hurt a little more than that feeling of connection to her mother helped, but Santana still feared the day where she'd truly forget to get a card, to feel a need to reconnect. She hoped this wouldn't hurt Hiram as much as it hurt her, but she wasn't naive; she knew that this would devastate him for years to come.

"I can't put it back."

Santana bit her lip and nodded. She'd always bought mother's day cards. A box in her closet was full of them and all her memories of the woman that birthed her, raised her, loved her. It had her wondering what Rachel's room was like in the Berry home. How they were to her.

"Then don't." Santana answered softly, eyes scanning over the seriously limited vegan food selection. Santana figured Rachel and her fathers must have had to make most things from scratch. Still, at least some of the cake mixes had to be decent, if Mr. Berry was stationed in front of them.

Hiram shook his head slowly as he stared down at the card. "It's been months...I'm supposed...I should have come to terms..." Hiram stammered out before clamping shut, Santana only then realizing that perhaps a grown man being vocal about his grief, in a grocery store, to a teenager, might have been considered a little out of the ordinary.

Still, he'd said enough for her to get the gist of what he'd wanted to say.

"Fuck your therapist. We heal in our own ways, and we can't force this. Better to hold on to some things a little harder, a little longer, than to force yourself to cope with something you're not ready to recover from. You don't want to turn into my father, Mr. Berry." Santana spoke quietly, but firmly, knowing Rachel's dad had worked with her father before Hiram had left Lima General to open his own private practice. He'd been around for two whole years after her mother had died, and witnessed her father's alcoholism and addiction to work take over his life. Anything he could do to distract himself from the loss, to kick that can a little farther down the road.

Hiram's expression softened at her words, but he remained still, staring down at that card like it held all the answers, all the memories of his precious daughter. Santana made a decision she hoped she wouldn't regret.

"Look, a year ago...a year ago, Rachel came by glee with a bunch of these cookies, and I don't really do that vegan stuff, but they were delicious as hell. I more or less forced her to give me the recipe, and I woke up this morning craving those things. Made me smile, and it's good to remember happier times, right? To remember that joy inside her. I wanted to do that...so I'm here." Santana added, drawing Hiram's attention, his eyes scanning the contents of her cart for a moment before he smiled wistfully.

"Her snickerdoodles." He whispered, gaze firmly locked on the ingredients resting in her cart's top rack.

"I've got some studying to do for my last final tomorrow, but...but I'm gonna bake some today. If you want...and only if you do...I could drop by with a batch sometime. My house still has a landline, so...ball's in your court." Santana noted as she took a step backward, figuring they'd talked for long enough, and she really didn't want him to break down in the grocery store if she kept going. "It was good to see you again, Mr. Berry. Say hi to LeRoy for me, and take care, okay?"

Santana allowed for a second or so of acknowledgement before she spun on her heel, pent up emotion flooding her insides as she marched through the store to the checkout, knowing she'd have to make a second stop on the way home. It was her chiclet's birthday, and while Rachel hadn't spoken a word of it, she wanted to make sure the girl got something extra on the sneaky day off Santana had been pressured to take. Hell, the day she'd needed to take off to get away from the shitstorm her life had fallen into, if just for a little bit.

In the end, it took three stops after the grocery store, Santana returning home with groceries, baking ingredients, a signed birthday card, and a bouquet of blue violets and white chrysanthemums. With as much care as she could muster, Santana snuck into Rachel's crawlspace and placed the vase of flowers nearby, ensuring it was stable and safe before setting the card up by the vase, the glittery star-spangled thing sure to grab the diva's attention when she woke.

Content with her actions, Santana forced herself away from Rachel's comfy looking bed, traveling the few feet down the hall to her own room and collapsing onto her duvet. Within seconds, she'd cocooned herself in it and slipped into slumber.

* * *

Rachel couldn't help herself from smiling as Santana led her upstairs, though in truth, she'd been smiling more or less since she'd woken up late afternoon. A wealth of new aromas had met her as she'd slipped into consciousness, her eyes immediately taking sight of the wonderful and confusing bouquet all wrapped up in one of the Lopez home's fancier vases. She'd never been one to memorize the language of flowers, but they were beautiful and sweet, and the birthday card that had accompanied it had brought a warmth to her heart.

It was almost an unsettling feeling, if she were to be honest, given that warmth felt slightly more like a memory than anything else, but it was a gift in itself to be reminded of her humanity through such an act of sincere care.

To be reminded of what love felt like.

That it had still felt close enough that she could reach it, that she could possess it in a sense, had put Rachel into motion, her feet carrying her to Santana's room, braving the slight tingle of refracted sunlight in the atmosphere to settle in beside her napping protector. Her closest friend.

Rachel smiled at the memory and followed Santana down the hall and stood in the bathroom doorway as her housemate prepared for a good night's sleep. They'd baked a few dozen cookies, set up and decorated the tree in the basement rec room, sang carols, watched holiday specials, and decked the house in whatever Christmas themed decor they could find packed up.

It had been exactly what Rachel needed, and though she now saw through it all clearly enough to register it as having been a distraction from reality, those feelings of humanity lingered. A veritable bouquet of emotions lingered, and it had Rachel absentmindedly brushing her hands across her sweater again in case any of the tinsel Santana had wrapped her up in remained. She didn't want any obstacles to her final birthday plans.

It was almost as if time had flown as she'd dipped into memories, because Rachel soon found herself watching Santana finish up her nightly routine; it was far less intricate and lengthy than her own had been once upon a time, but she could admit that Santana hardly needed so much effort. Her favourite friend was just as beautiful on the outside as on the inside, even if the latter was largely confidential outside of a select few.

"Just one last final, one last day of classes, and I'll be home for the holidays, chiclet." Santana noted with that easy sort of happiness the girl often dipped into when she was sleepy. Carefree, lighthearted happiness punctuated with a cute little yawn. It all made her decision much easier; Rachel wasn't quite ready for the day to end.

"I'm excited for you, San, and I can't wait for you to be able to rest and relax after a tough last few weeks. You've earned it." Rachel said as they stepped into the hallway, lightly taking hold of Santana's wrist as the girl made to enter her room for the night. Santana gave her a curious look, but nothing more, despite their usual routine of Rachel hanging around for a few minutes in Santana's room before they went to bed.

Rachel mustered up whatever courage she had to stand a little straighter, knowing there wasn't much precedent for what she'd ask. "San...you've made today so special for me. Between the birthday wishes, and helping me hold onto my traditions, I won't forget today. It's my first birthday since my new life started, and...I know it's a lot to ask, but I...well, um, could you stay with me tonight?" Rachel managed to ask after fumbling through her request, Santana's slight smile and tilting of the head having distracted her during her spiel.

Santana let out a smile as she gently tugged Rachel into a hug, those safe, warm arms embracing her completely. "Of course, chiclet. Jus' gimme a sec to grab my pillow and my duvet, alright?"

She just nodded happily, having half-expected some talk about needing the best sleep possible to prep for her last exam, but it hadn't been brought up at all. Instead, her eyes tracked Santana quickly gathering the basics, then shooting her a goofy smile and a characteristic thumbs up.

It didn't take long to get Santana settled in on her mattress, only a few of the stuffed animal demographic needing to be put to the side to make room. Rachel settled into her usual right side of the mattress and placed her book and headlamp beside her, knowing that with Santana being a fairly light sleeper, she'd get no reading done that night. It was a worthy sacrifice to be able to have her closest friend at her side for a little longer, though.

"Thank you, San." Rachel whispered, pulling Santana to curl up against her, something her best friend was very quick and happy to do, but the soft smile on her face. "I just didn't want to be alone tonight."

Santana took hold of the duvet and pulled it tighter around them. "Mmmmn, gots ta keep my diva comfy. Not only on your birthday, Rach...you jus' lemme know whenever you need me, 'kay?" Santana slurred out, shifting closer to slumber, her tired words giving Rachel that warm sensation in her chest again. "You're my chiclet. You're not alone, Rach."

That warmth swirled around in her chest, Santana's body heat feeling more than just peripheral as it usually did, as if it was funneling into her and feeding that warmth. And as Rachel held Santana close, as her best friend cuddled up and abandoned that special pillow for her shoulder, that warmth bloomed into something she hadn't felt in so long. That slight distance, that fog that had impeded her emotions since she'd been turned lifted and left Rachel near breathless in clarity of the magnitude of what she felt for the girl curled up against her. Her best friend. Her protector. Her home.

Rachel let her head fall back against Santana's pillow, taking in the vanilla-lavender scent that she'd always found relaxing, but now just felt so much more soothing. More comforting. A tanned hand lightly caressing her stomach felt like a balm to so much of the loneliness she'd been suffering over the past weeks, and especially since being turned. She may not have much, but she had Santana.

She was Santana's chiclet. Santana's diva.

Perhaps that all sounded a bit possessive, but she knew Santana didn't quite mean it that way. Rachel had heard the words from Santana occasionally over her time in the Lopez house, she'd felt the pure-hearted affection from her best friend in the past as well. She'd accepted that Santana saw her as her family, but something was different about this time around.

She'd never felt so warm and full of life, not since she was alive.

That game-changer had her turning her head to press her lips to Santana's crown. "You're so good to me, honey. You just sleep now, San." Rachel whispered, pressing a second kiss as Santana hummed contently, nestling ever so slightly closer. "Just rest your pretty head, and I'll wake you at dawn."

Santana's cheek nuzzled against her shoulder the tiniest bit, but soon after the girl's breathing evened out, signaling she was asleep. As Rachel waited for her best friend to slip into a slightly deeper sleep, she kept her eye on the camera across the room, red light glowing to relay that it was a live feed. The green light beside it revealed that she had a live visitor on the channel.

Once Rachel was certain Santana was in a deep enough sleep to ensure Rachel whispering, she let out a soft sigh, the microphone beside the bed surely providing the stream with much clearer audio from that distance.

_I suppose now is as good a time as any..._ Rachel thought to herself as she steadied her breathing and relaxed in Santana's arms, trying to remain as anchored in the present as possible during her open musings. Wanting to revel in that connection between them as she started work to rekindle Santana's connection with Quinn.

"Good evening, Quinn."

* * *

The crack of her father's belt against her raw back, its iron buckle tearing into her skin, felt more and more like penance with each lashing. With each terrifying, tearing attack, Santana's face filled her mind, so raw with betrayal and fear. It was only fitting that she be made raw, that she feel fear, that she pay for what she'd done by her father's hand when Santana would never lay a hand on her with malicious intent.

Quinn wasn't sure how long she'd been hanging against the wall in the basement for; it'd been long enough that she was positive she'd missed a day of classes, but given she'd finished all her finals, it didn't matter much. Again, it seemed fitting to be there alone, while Santana was surrounded with the love and support of Brittany, as well as the vampire she suspected might actually be Rachel Berry. She'd have a holiday break to heal from this, to stay out of Santana's way, to let her friend heal from the betrayal, and consider deigning to offer forgiveness if San could find it in her heart to do so.

Sure, she had a mission. She'd gone to Santana's the previous night with a mission, and it had blown up in her face spectacularly. No ghouls, not even a minor level thralldom; just her best friend sheltering a seemingly friendly vampire, and being protected by a lodge of werewolves. Her best friend's stupidly big heart rarely caused much trouble, it was just difficult for Quinn in particular that this was how things unraveled when it did.

Quinn wasn't an idiot. If she'd told her family what was going on in that house, they would have put it to flame and died in the ensuing slaughter by whatever lodge Brittany belonged to. There was too much at stake to let that happen. Her father depriving her of food and water, and lashing her for her 'clear failure to assess' given her accounts of that night's events, was a price she was more than willing to pay to keep her mother alive. To keep Santana alive. To keep Brittany and the vampire...existing, for now.

Another bite from her father's belt buckle tore her away from her thoughts for a moment, teeth grit and voice hoarse as she let out another scream from the blinding pain. Quinn took a sharp breath and tried to catch her breath again. She didn't need her sight or an unmarred back, but she did need to be able to breathe and speak, knowing her father would continue his interrogation now, given she'd taken the customary forty lashes to test her loyalty, thirteen of which were with the buckle to celebrate her assumed betrayal.

"I'll ask you one last time, Quinn. I will not tolerate more dishonor from you." Russell grit out, closing the distance and positioning himself at her left side. Her ribs there were still sore from a punishment two weeks ago, and she knew he'd test how well they'd healed if he suspected any falsehood from her.

Her plan was coming together well enough. It was already customary for him to be distrustful of her, to punish her; he would have looked for a reason to do so unless she miraculously came home with a complete success on her mission. Her withholding some details and playing to his history, only to come up with a faulty performance was business as usual. So long as he bought her narrative, she'd buy enough time to figure her situation out, and how to handle the supernatural trinity going on at Santana's house.

"Go through the visit to that spic's house again, and don't leave anything out this time." Russell added, a hand reaching out to squeeze at her floating ribs.

Quinn winced from the pain, but it wasn't anything she couldn't push herself past. Violence was a language she knew well, and something like that only registered as discomfort. "I arrived early evening at the Lopez household. The home's security system was in place and my electronic tools weren't functional within a few feet of the home. I think..." Quinn started off, taking a few breaths to ensure her voice was calm and steady. Russell didn't take kindly to stammering or heavy breathing. "I think a scrambler of some sort was being used. Anyway, it restricted my access to the property, and so I had to approach at the front door alone, because anything else could draw suspicion."

She waited for Russell to nod before she continued onward, her father looking angry still, and impatient, so she sped her story up. "Santana was confused when she answered the door, because I never show up early in the week, and only rarely early at night. She said Brittany was downstairs choosing movies, while Santana was in the kitchen making pizzas and cutting up fruit. B likes pineapple on her pizza, and Santana has a hard time saying no."

"Heathens..." Russell muttered in distaste, but waved a hand as a gesture for her to continue.

"Santana pestered me a lot about why I was over, because it was really unusual for me, and we don't really tend to stray from routines with each other. Makes us cranky, and unpredictable, so we try to stay predictable. So she was really nosy and annoying, but nothing past that. When the food was ready, I excused myself to the washroom and she took the food downstairs." Quinn continued, gauging her father's response with the low-level lie she'd told. He didn't seem to read it, so she took a deep breath and delved further into her story.

"I'd talked a little with San about the cameras and stuff she and Britt had found, and a lot was made about how helpful the cops had been, but Brittany was the one who found the first camera. I checked the foyer when San left, and while I didn't get much time, I felt something hard in Britt's jacket. Some small, thin plastic box...it was some sort of electronic device, it had a faint green light flashing, but I didn't take it because I didn't want to give my position away." Quinn said, drawing a slow, thoughtful nod from her father.

"Would have preferred to have that device here, Quinn." Russell noted lowly, staring her down; she could see her ploy paid off. Her father was too upset about a lost opportunity to pay enough attention to read her usual subtler tells like he would have had he were calmer.

"Britt's detail oriented and curious, it's why she found the cameras in the first place. And nothing goes missing in San's house, she knows every square inch of that place, and where everything is. Her father's almost never home, and she gets bored and cleans it herself." Quinn retorted, her excuse adding to the tense stare-down before he gave her a second hard squeeze and gestured for her to continue.

"I joined them downstairs and stayed for a movie. Nothing out of the ordinary, but...I..." Quinn started, faking hesitation and sorrow for a moment, taking a hard swallow before continuing. "I found a moment while both girls were snacking to test that high pitched frequency ringtone on my cell phone. Almost immediately, Brittany looked uncomfortable, and complained a little about having a headache."

Quinn felt a little bad for using her fellow Cheerio in her ploy, but she expected that the bubbly blonde would understand. Brittany could take care of herself, she had a whole lodge watching out for her and caring for her. A small group of hunters stood little chance of causing trouble with a group so powerful. Outing Britt to keep Santana and the vampire safe was a sacrifice she had to make.

"You saying that idiot friend of yours is a wolf?" Russell asked thoughtfully, brows creasing as he gauged her for a sense of a lie. Luckily, she hadn't, even if she had to shake off his regular insult of the blonde.

"I am. It makes sense that she suddenly got more hands-on recently after straying from Santana earlier this year. When the students started going missing, I'd spotted her just happening to be around Santana here and there, remember?" She asked, drawing a slow nod from her father. "And then two weeks ago, another student goes missing, a girl who had lived a few blocks from Santana. Suddenly, Britt's closer to her, a fixture in her life again. We try to sting Santana's house as a possible nest, and we're foiled about as soon as we started, like it's known that we were scoping the place out. If Brittany is protecting Santana from the vampire out there, she WOULD do whatever was necessary to keep it that way, meaning full lodge protection. But she's not a risk, she's clearly just protecting San. You know the local lodge has helped with our hunts in the past, they're not hostile unless we breach their territory or hurt their people."

Russell nodded again, moving away from Quinn's side to walk aimlessly in the small room. "Those filthy beasts are just as unholy as vampires, but they're not our first priority. We'll deal with them when this mess is over, and then Lima can finally be free of the tainted." Russell asserted, before turning his focus back to Quinn. "But if you have an opportunity to take that device again, you take it, Quinn. You're to do what is necessary to combat these beasts, and that requires the risk of sacrifice from us all. If that device could help gain an upper hand over those wolves, then it's more than worth your life of constant disappointment."

Russell looked her over and scowled as he shook his head. "You're confined to your room for bible study until we know you've been truthful to us. Need I remind you that the strength of a family, like the strength of an army, is in its loyalty to each other. We won't tolerate more failure from you, Quinn."

Quinn waited for her father to tromp upstairs before allowing herself to finally sag, letting the weight of the chains to do the brunt of holding her upright. Her legs were aching and tired, and while her back was a confusing mix of searing raw pain and a numbness drawn from her body's exhaustion, she could hold out a few minutes longer. In all honesty, she'd had worse once or twice, and it was the memory of those times that kept her standing.

He wouldn't win. She loved her family, mostly her mother, but they were committed to him. She couldn't leave them in the lurch to suffer in her place, like she knew her mother would endure from him. There had to be an exit strategy.

She just needed time.

Quinn counted the long seconds until soft padding footsteps made their way down into the basement. She didn't need eyes on the back of her head to know it was her mother. A soft hand rested on her shoulder for a moment before her mom unshackled Quinn's hands from the ceiling-bound restraints, her wrists raw and bleeding from their sharp iron edges. Slowly and carefully, her mom guided her arms down, blood pumping furiously into them after hours upon hours of being held up, Quinn sighing in relief as her mother continued lowering her to a kneel, giving her legs some reprieve.

"It'll be okay...I'll see to your wounds, and then get you up in bed, my little lamb." Her mom whispered, words punctuated by a kiss to her slightly swollen temple, the injury courtesy of a stray punch from her father a few hours ago. It only stung a little, but it reminded her of how things were. No love from her mother would be free of pain so long as her father was still around.

Quinn nodded slowly and shut her eyes, allowing herself a little bit of rest as her mother cleaned, sutured, and bandaged her wounds, wrapping her torso in full to hold it all together nice and snug. Felt a little suffocating as usual, but she shook off that thought and let her mom finish her work, feeling very ready for a quality rest in bed.

It wasn't long before her mother was helping her sluggish, aching body up the stairs and to her room on the second floor, guiding Quinn gently onto her bed. There wouldn't be any comfortable positions, but she'd make do, accepting her mother's kiss to her forehead as a silent wish goodnight, knowing her father expected her mom not to 'waste time' on her. Especially tonight.

Quinn listened for her mother to leave and lock the door behind her before turning on her side and reaching out for her laptop. It only took a minute or so to tap into the stream for the vampire's webcam setup; Quinn figured if she'd be stuck in her room indefinitely, and her body was too sore to sleep for a while until the tiny bit of medication kicked in, then she'd indulge in checking up.

When the camera's feed filled her screen, it was clear that the room, Santana's upstairs crawlspace, was empty. Perhaps more lived in than usual, with a bed, a lamp, and a stack of books nearby, but devoid of people. However, the faint sound of voices in the audio channel let her know that people were nearby; judging by the late hour, Santana was getting ready for bed.

Quinn took a few moments to pull a quilt over her, the chill of winter always having been an issue in her home due to the poor insulation. Just as she was getting settled again, she spotted Santana hauling a pillow and her duvet into the room, Rachel following right behind.

She felt as if her heart was twisting as Santana got comfortable, laying herself down completely on what she assumed was Rachel's bed. The vampire's words from the other night bounced around in her head; how they said they wouldn't be enough for Santana, that they wouldn't pursue Santana. In all truth, she'd expected differently, had expected them to each sleep alone. Seeing evidence to the contrary had Quinn feeling a little deceived.

And perhaps a little possessive as well, though se shooed those thoughts away, knowing she had no claim on Santana, certainly not after what she'd done.

Quinn watched as the vampire, Rachel, settled onto the bed, both girls curling up quickly with each other, as if it was just a common thing. _"Thank you San. I just didn't want to be alone tonight."_

The words brought a modicum of relief to Quinn, knowing that the vampire voicing them meant that it was likely out of the ordinary. Still, it was unsettling that the vampire was so close, with Santana putting herself in such a vulnerable position.

_"Mmmmn, gots ta keep my diva comfy. Not only on your birthday, Rach...you jus' lemme know whenever you need me, 'kay?"_ Santana mumbled in return, visibly nestling closer to the vampire. It didn't make much sense; Vampires were cold, that couldn't be comfortable. _"You're my chiclet. You're not alone, Rach."_

Like a light bulb went off, Quinn let out a sigh in relief and understanding, her body relaxing as the reality of the situation kicked in. It was Rachel's birthday. If the vampire was telling the truth, she probably missed her family and friends, and likely only had Santana. While she was still a little skeptical about the vampire actually being Rachel, it did seem like something the diva would do. And unless there was to be a sudden major deception in the vampire feeding off a sleeping Santana while she helplessly watched from a mile away, there wasn't much to worry about.

Even if the two girls were practically fusing together, Santana abandoning her beloved pillow for Rachel's shoulder, the vampire's face disappearing in San's hair for a moment or two in what might have been a kiss, she couldn't quite tell. _"You're so good to me, honey. You just sleep now, San."_ Rachel whispered, pressing a second potential kiss to her betrayed best friend's head, Santana humming contently from the gesture, cuddling impossibly closer. _"Just rest your pretty head, and I'll wake you at dawn."_

The introduction of pet names had Quinn feeling a little territorial, but it was something that deep down, she'd expected. Santana loved giving people all sorts of nicknames, and Rachel had generally been one to try and find ways to reciprocate affection from others in ways that mirrored how she was given it. Sure, the diva had failed to manage it a lot of the times, but something like a pet name or an affectionate remark were well within the girl's wheelhouse.

Quinn bit her lip as she watched Santana slip into slumber, the vampire just observing the girl, and even with the slight graininess to her HD camera's feed, she could tell that Rachel was smiling. A part of her wanted to smile as well, having missed that sight, but she still couldn't be entirely certain that it truly WAS Rachel.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed before the vampire turned her focus directly to the camera. _"Hello, Quinn."_

Quinn glanced at her clock, seeing it was a little after midnight. Probably plenty of time for the vampire to ramble on. Great.

_"As you might be aware, given our previous budding friendship, today was my birthday. I'm sure you were left wondering where Santana was at school today...don't worry, she was here, resting. Recuperating."_ The vampire spoke, voice soft and smooth, quiet enough not to rouse the light-sleeping Santana. _"She needed a day off, and I needed a day with her. Or at least not to be alone today."_

Quinn nodded along, understanding Santana needing to take a mental health day after everything that had happened. She couldn't imagine the stress and hurt her best friend was going through. She would have done anything to help, but being chained in her basement, and being practically banished from Santana due to her own actions, kept her from providing that. Hearing that the vampire stepped up was a little heartening, all things considered.

_"We spent much of today decorating, baking, and just relaxing. I think she needed it, and I think she needed me a little after everything. On nights where you both had sleepovers, even with you clearly being troubled, Santana would never sleep better than with you near. I can only hope to provide some of that silent solace to her tonight, like she does to me."_ The vampire confessed, Quinn's heart blooming in adoration at remembering how she'd helped Santana in the past, how they'd helped each other, even if her heart broke anew at the reality of having lost that the moment she'd tried to choke San out.

_"She is such a good person, Quinn. I know you're aware of that, but she's just...she deserves so much."_ Rachel continued, sadness tinting her words as the vampire gazed down at the girl in her arms. _"She ran into my daddy at the grocery store today. She tried comforting him in my stead, and I can't thank her enough for that. She talked to me about baking some extra cookies when she woke from her nap today, and that she'd maybe stop by my parents' to leave a gift for them. I don't need to see them to know they're struggling without me."_

Quinn gulped back the emotions welling up inside of her, recalling all the times she'd seen the Berry men since Rachel had disappeared. They were in such despair that it was often hard to watch; that Santana had talked to one of them, probably Hiram, only had Quinn feeling proud of her best friend for doing that. For potentially confronting her own loss in the process.

_"I brought up a potential scenario in the future with you and Santana visiting my parents for a few minutes on Christmas Eve, with some cookies, or something. Santana was uncertain, but didn't rule it out. She'll go...she wants to go...and I'm sure that in her heart she'd like you to be there, too. She just isn't sure how to be around you now, I think. She's scared. But that can change, Quinn."_ Rachel added, her head turning once more to face the camera.

Honestly, the idea alone of being with Santana in person had her in a cold sweat, knowing she didn't deserve it, and that she didn't want to see that hurt on Santana's face again, no matter how much it was earned. And hearing that Santana was scared of her, a truth Quinn had known ever since seeing that panic and terror on Santana's face when she approached with the knife, had that whole night flashing in her mind again.

Such a goddamn mistake. It all went to hell, and she couldn't take that back.

_"You can change. You can fix this. She wants you to...I want you to...so please, make this right. If she visits my parents, it will be early evening, around seven. Please don't let her do that alone, Quinn."_ Rachel noted softly, practically pleading with her.

And most certainly manipulating her. Yet, it wasn't for anyone's benefit but hers, which was confusing. Santana could live without her, that was obvious enough. She, however, felt lost without her friend. Her anchor to all things real and normal in her life. It was something of an odd similarity to Rachel's situation, and Quinn wasn't sure whether to be comforted by that, or disturbed.

_"You love her, Quinn. And she loves you, so much."_ Rachel added, Quinn's throat closing up as tears welled in her eyes at those words. Was there really a reason for Rachel to lie about that? _"She needs you now more than ever, Quinn. Please don't abandon her, don't listen to that voice inside you that says you don't deserve her, that she's better off without you. We both know that's not true. She's already lost too much of her family, please don't add yourself to that list."_

Quinn shut her eyes, stemming the flow of tears as shallow breaths shuddered out of her, Rachel putting her and Santana's history to words in the most simple, gut-wrenching way.

Family. If the blood of the covenant was thicker than the water of the womb, then Santana was the most valuable family she'd had. Santana, whose safety and happiness she'd pledged to protect when she was so young; Santana, who had pledged the same for her in return. Santana, whose strength helped her endure the hardest, most wretched moments in her history. Whose love had made her feel capable of recovery after losing Beth, even if she'd treated her friend's care with scorn and betrayal from a misguided sense of shame and unworthiness.

And it was true. Santana had lost her mother long ago. And she had lost her father, for all intents and purposes, as well as the majority of her remaining extended family due to her sexuality. Had Rachel not come along, had Brittany not reconnected with her, all Santana would have had was Quinn, and not even her given the current circumstances.

That prospect was frightening, put in perspective like that.

She could not have Santana suffering alone, like she couldn't have her mother suffering alone.

_"You want the best for Santana. I want the best for Santana...and that's having you in her life. She's hurt, Quinn. She needs time to heal, but she will need to talk with you. She will need to see you again. Don't push her away, Quinn. She still needs you."_ Rachel continued, tearing Quinn away from her thoughts, though it only spurred more guilt over what she'd done. What she'd have to somehow impossibly make up for. After all, how did someone make up for not only breaking their promise to protect each other, but to actually cause the harm they swore to protect the other from? Reprehensible. Unforgivable.

"I can't...How can I possibly make this better?" Quinn whispered to herself, blushing from knowing she was speaking to herself, a habit her father once trained out of her for the most part.

_"Be there when Santana visits my dads. I know you're confused, Quinn. I know you're scared and sad. Give Santana time and space, and she'll let you know how to make it right. Just because your connection is damaged right now, doesn't mean you can't find a way to reconnect."_ Rachel pleaded softly, Quinn's eyes opening just in time to see the vampire plant a kiss to Santana's head. It was an oddly comforting sight, knowing Santana was taken care of in her absence. Sure, Quinn wasn't entirely certain about Rachel, but if the vampire wanted to harm Santana, she would have had plenty of opportunities in the previous months. She was still suspicious of Rachel, but she was quite certain that the diva wouldn't put Santana in harm's way.

Rachel's request was something that Quinn wasn't certain she was comfortable with, and it was a little unsettling that the girl had been at her wavelength in predicting her thoughts. Still making things right was something Quinn desperately wanted, even f she had a hard time believing it was a possibility. Meeting at a neutral ground was something that did make some sense, but she didn't want to put a damper on any potential positive outcomes from the meeting. And honestly, she couldn't look Hiram in the eye after everything. Not when visiting to comfort them over Rachel's disappearance.

But if she didn't show, it could hurt Santana. Her best friend might want her there, might want some sign that Quinn still cared, and she did. She was heartsick over what she'd done, and she wanted to make it right, she just didn't know how.

And she needed to have those answers before she tried fixing it, because she couldn't risk hurting Santana again. She couldn't risk failure again. She had to be perfect.

_"Santana loves you, Quinn. Let that fill your heart and help you sleep tonight."_ The former gleek whispered, voice barely audible from the nearby microphone. Watching Rachel settle back down against Santana let her know that the nightly communication was likely over, or soon to be. Her tired body and tired mind agreed, though Quinn knew that she'd be spending all her bible study hours figuring out what to do.

She had to do right by her mom. She had to do right by Santana. And she'd find a way to fix it all soon enough.

She just needed time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's more Sanvean, sorry for the long wait. Whenever I approached this fic, there was a vague endgame I had in mind that I lost the stomach for, and I had to find a way to shift away from that and find something new. That took time, and I hope that my direction, as much as I'm generally winging this story, will help keep this entertaining. The Quinn POV was a bit difficult to step into, it's been a while since I've written from her POV, but I managed a level of comfort in the end. It helped that she's a bit different than canon Quinn but I kept a lot of her core struggles and personality that I'm familiar with.
> 
> And I know this chapter was a bit slow, but there had to be some detail into the fallout of the recent events.
> 
> This took a day later than I'd hoped, but I hope you all enjoyed it. Thanks so much for taking the time to read!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Violence in section 4; violence and torture in sections 5 and 6.

Santana found herself nervous as hell as she parked a few streets away from her destination and shut the car down. Over the past weeks, she and Rachel had talked about their holiday rituals, and she'd tried to fit as many of her diva's traditions into their schedule as she could. It had been a good way to distract herself from everything else going on in her life, so she'd really dove into it all. Santana knew that if she turned the car back around right now, she could still consider the holidays a general win.

It just wasn't about that, though. This time, it was about how Rachel's eyes would light up when retelling the memories from the past, only to dull, her diva's lip curling into a sad smile and repeating the rhetoric that it wasn't going to happen again. It had taken research, a good long talk with Britt, and a long hour of getting Rachel to apply a special moisturizer that didn't smell very good, and which she couldn't explain lest she spoil the surprise, but everything was a go.

Santana got out and, after checking to see that no one was around and that no new cameras had been installed since her last visit, popped open the trunk, unveiling a frustrated and annoyed vampire diva.

"Santana Lopez, if you don't tell me what's going on THIS INSTANT I will withhold hugs from you, AND confiscate all the remaining sugar cookies at home! Wherever we are took MUCH longer than the fifteen minutes you told me it'd be, and may I remind you that there's no luxury padding here in the trunk? No windows for me to sightsee? No music to listen to? No companionship? If you think I'm going to be patient any..." Rachel ranted from the get go as Santana helped her out and to her feet, the diva immediately shifting into her usual superstar power stance, one that mostly just revealed how indignant and frustrated Berry was.

"Easy, chiclet. I know I've asked a lot of you, and it's been really hard to be patient. I'm not going to tell you what's going on, but..." Santana started, needing to lift a hand when Rachel went to passionately interject. "BUT...I can definitely show you, if you follow me."

Rachel huffed loudly, clearly not pleased at having to wait another second in suspense, but strode to Santana's side anyways, following her out onto the street. Santana heard a muffled shriek against her shoulder, Rachel's face pressed against it as the diva clung hard to her. Unsure if it was a happy shriek or a bad shriek, she eased them up against a nearby wall and gently prodded at Rachel's head in hopes for some kind of vocalization.

Thankfully, Rachel was predictable, and put her emotions to words like she usually did. "Santana, we're out in public!" The diva stage whispered frantically. "Anyone could see me! What if someone sees me?!"

"Rachel, it's night-time, and it's Columbus. If people see you and think anything, it'll be that you're an adorable goober, and they'll move on." Santana noted calmly, hoping to reassure her friend and move on to the real surprise. "That cream from earlier will help you show up well on cameras, if your picture's taken. It also masks the...well, Britt can smell vampires, but she can't smell them when they wear this stuff, so I guess it's to hide you in plain sight in case someone would notice."

Rachel's face left her shoulder, expression twisting in awe and confusion. "You mean...I can...I'll be okay?"

Santana just pulled Rachel into a hug, one immediately reciprocated. "You'll be perfect, I promise." Santana murmured into the diva's ear, smiling as she pulled away and gestured on down the street. "Now come on, I want to cross off another one of your holiday traditions."

Rachel huffed again, though this time it paired up with a laugh. "Santana, last I checked, Columbus didn't have any major bodies of water in its downtown region. How do you suppose you're..." Rachel began, going silent for a moment as they rounded a corner and the event came into view. "You...Santana!" Rachel stammered out, pointing an accusing finger at her, holding her gaze as that finger flung to the side to point at the event down the street. "You're taking me skating?"

Santana couldn't help but melt at Rachel's wobbly lower lip, or how bright and shiny those mocha eyes were tonight. "I just want you to have a fun night, even if it meant being among the plebes. Skating seemed like the best way to do that once I figured out how to get you out and about all safe and sound."

The words were barely out of her mouth before Rachel had a mittened hand clutching her own and leading them down the street in a hurry towards the outdoor skating rink.

* * *

Quinn let out a sigh as she put her VW Bug in park outside Radley's Pawn Shop. Or, well, what used to be, given the big signs on the barred window and the door claiming it was for rent. Not too surprising, given her contact's ties to local real estate. She just hoped he'd have as good of intel as he'd promised her. _Done him far too many favours for him to string me along...this had better be good_... She thought to herself as she stepped out of her car, knowing she was taking a risk at sneaking out during her mandated isolation. _Desperate times, desperate measures..._

Quinn approached the run down building and pulled open the door, watching and listening for anything potentially off about the place before drawing her gun and activating the mounted flashlight. Why Vanderbilt had to pick the creepiest, run down places to meet in was beyond her, but it wouldn't matter if she got what she was looking for.

Quietly, she padded through the building, past the counter and into the back room, where she could at least feel a sense of relief in noticing a light coming from the stairwell into the basement. "Vee? Are you down there?" She called out, knowing if any supernatural being was lying in wait for her, they'd already smelled or heard her coming given her lack of prep, so there was no harm in being a bit loud.

"Oh, uh, hey! Yeah, I'm down here, just gimme a sec!" He called out as she descended the stairs, not really having the patience to wait on him when time was ticking, and it wasn't exactly a quick commute to Toledo to begin with. She couldn't risk spending any more time away than she had to.

"I don't have the time, Vee. I don't understand why you couldn't tell me this over a secure channel, so let's just get this over with." Quinn asserted as she entered the dank, dingy basement, all sorts of old and broken objects scattered around the room and on the shelves, the dim light of a computer monitor the only light source guiding her way.

Vanderbilt took that moment to come out of a back room, wiping his hands with a particularly gross looking rag. "Not safe. Maybe if I were back at the mainframe, but I had to be here tonight, and I just got the intel three hours ago, so you can _deal with it_ , Q." Vee argued with a huff before slumping down at his computer. "You remember telling me about that vampire rolling through our happy little land like a war machine?"

Quinn nodded along, as if she could forget the conversations she'd had with her old partner in crime about the nomad vamp. Over the months, she hadn't been able to give much information at all, but since having Rachel's video feeds to tap into, she'd been able to get a bit more. The diminutive vampire would read, and occasionally sing all quiet and soft, but often would just talk about random things out of boredom. Rachel reciting the details of her capture and turning had brought some information to light that Quinn hadn't known before. Information she passed on to every contact she still had favours to pull from.

"Tell me you found him." Quinn let out, hoping and praying she'd have an easy path to freedom on her hands, or at least have one part of that process be simpler.

Vee shook his head, but the excitement glimmering in his eyes was enough to not dim Quinn's hopes completely. "I found him, temporarily. And then again. And again." He claimed with a smile, spinning in his seat to face Quinn when she could only offer an impatient raised eyebrow in return. "Jeez, lighten up, Q. I found his hunting grounds."

Quinn pursed her lips, hating how the young man would always draw things out and make things dramatic, when all she needed were facts and details. She turned on her voice recorder and looked at him expectantly. "Explain, and be quick, I can't afford to be caught out of the house. You _know_ my father."

"Okay, okay. So that intel you gave me about him hunting out at a convenience store? Late 80s van with dual high windows along the sides, baby blue? Well, I ran the intel to the mainframe and had some friends scan the archives. We got a bunch of possible hits, they were passed to me, and I did some checking, and came up with at least three hits on the days that people disappeared. All convenience stores along the edge of towns, with either large parking lots, or a small one with bushes and shit blocking line of sight, all with poor lighting. No repeats." Vee rambled, and while he was still beating around the bush, she liked what she was hearing.

"So he camps out at high traffic locations with poor visibility. That doesn't exactly cut anything down." Quinn noted, happy that they'd managed to catch a glimpse of the guy, but not too pleased that they were a long way from nabbing him.

"See, that's the thing, though. He parks in a dark area, you barely even get a glimpse of him on the store video feeds, if you do at all, despite the victims usually walking through some better lit areas. They just sort of vanish or fizzle out en route to their cars in two of the three I pulled." Vee continued, piquing Quinn's interest, her mind working over his words before realization set in.

"He transformed into mist." Quinn spoke, adrenaline pumping through her as she considered what they might be up against. Vampires came in all shapes and sizes, with all sorts of abilities, but the ability to make that level of transformation was unsettling, at least in the context of what they knew. "His behaviour patterns, the abductions, the lack of violence...usually the more primal vamps can do this, but they're more aggressive, less controlled."

Vee just nodded, mouth curling into a grim frown. "Which means we were probably right about our profile. Just, you know, underestimated his ability. If we're not looking at a primal, we're looking at something else with some serious mojo, Q."

"Meaning this probably isn't some random nomad being reckless." Quinn added with a slow nod, not at all liking the conclusions she was coming to. "Give me the video data, I'm under house arrest, so I've got plenty of time to go over it for anything else."

"I'll give you that and one little bonus." Vee said, handing out a portable hard drive he'd apparently had the foresight to prepare for her. "I've got a file with some file names and time stamps you should look at. Our boy in the blue van seemed to have a fan in a dark SUV. All three locations, it'd pop up an hour or two later right by where the van was parked, and it'd stick around for way longer than a customer would, before leaving. Couldn't grab the full plate off what I checked, but I did catch a partial match on another dark SUV stopping off at a familiar pub on the outskirts of Columbus a few times a week."

"Just cut the crap and tell me where." Quinn shot back with a roll of her eyes, loathing his habit of stretching conversations out when they could be short and succinct.

He leveled her with an exasperated stare, but bit back whatever retort he'd been thinking of, letting an annoyed sigh escape instead. "That shitshow ghoul hangout west of Dublin."

Quinn took the hard drive and shoved it into her bag as she mulled over the new information. "I appreciate it, Vee. One step closer to being even." She quickly rushed out, before spinning on her heel, tossing a wave over her shoulder, and heading back upstairs and out of the shop.

It wasn't an ideal set of information, but it was something for her to pore over. She'd always been pretty good at research, and she had friends who could help if she hit a snag. For the time being, she had to get home as soon as possible, but Quinn knew she likely had some long nights ahead of her planning for whatever sting or ambush she'd have to pull off.

Her gut feeling told her that this whole thing was much bigger than it seemed, and that was worrying. That would complicate matters. _Might have to call in the cavalry..._

* * *

"Rach, are you seriously telling me your secret ingredient of love was actually a few pinches extra cinnamon and a dash more of vanilla?" Santana asked with a petulant pout, and all Rachel could do was bite her lip to hold back her laughter. Her poor best friend had been trying to replicate her snickerdoodles, and something has always been just a little off, a difference Rachel had insisted was just in the love put into the mixture.

Santana catching her red handed, adding the slight adjustment while she thought San's back was turned, was not something she'd foreseen, given her heightened senses. And yet, her best friend had managed to sneak up on her, using some of the training for some baked goods sleuthing.

"...Maybe?" Rachel noted with a wince as Santana's expression darkened, those deep brown eyes narrowing on her.

"You know what this means, chiclet..." Santana spoke all low, with each word saturated in clear warning. It'd been a long time since Santana had spoken to her like that, and it had her a little on edge.

At least, until her housemate's lips curled up at the edges, and that dastardly eyebrow arched upwards as if to dare Rachel to disagree with whatever she'd say. "...Home Alone 2 jumps ahead of White Christmas in our movie marathon."

Rachel couldn't stifle her gasp, having looked forward to White Christmas all evening so far. However, she supposed her minor trickery could warrant some payback, even as that thought brought a frown to her face. "I guess that's fair enough."

"Damn right." Santana said with a laugh, picking up an already cooled off sugar cookie and taking a bite from its snowman shape. "Mmm, so good."

"Santana! You ate less than an hour ago." Rachel noted with worry, not wanting her best friend to get any sort of indigestion from eating too much.

Santana, of course, just waved her off. "I'll be fine, it's just one cookie. Okay, maybe two more somewhere deeper into the marathon, but still, they're delicious, and they're tiny. I'm good, chiclet."

Rachel was about to ask that Santana make this batch of cookies last, unlike the last one, when a thought popped into her head from the previous evening. "Did Brittany confirm if she was coming over or not?"

Santana shook her head. "Nah, she's got some lodge business to take care of. Thinks something big might be going down tonight...but nowhere near here, so we can kick back and relax. She'll be alright."

Rachel nodded along and started plopping portions of her cookie mixture onto the baking sheet, hoping that whoever the vampire that attacked her was, he'd get caught soon and things would calm down. A threat looming over her head, however nebulous at times, was a weight that she could really do without. Especially with Santana heading out that night briefly to visit her parents and drop off some cookies.

As she put the tray in the oven and shut the door, she hoped Brittany would be alright, and that whatever happened tonight would be for the better.

* * *

To say that Quinn was on edge would be the understatement of a century. Her hands were white-knuckling her phone, waiting for the green light from her hunter friend, Monica. Over the past few days, she'd had Monica visiting the run-down establishment, piece by piece diverting the building's fire sprinkler system's water supply to a tank Quinn had acquired with some help from Brittany. Thankfully, B hadn't questioned her motives, and had procured it for her with the only condition that Rachel be considered untouchable.

Which, well, it was safe enough of a gamble, given the vampire's behaviour, for her to commit to. Not that she wouldn't break the promise if necessary, but for the time being, she'd take that chance if it gave her the opportunity to free her mom and earn back Santana's trust.

Of course, that would only matter if she could walk out of the pub alive at the end of this. Quinn double checked her body armor and mentally ran through her entry plan, knowing the people from the black Escalade she'd been tracking had gone inside five minutes ago, joining a bartender who was likely some sort of shifter by her testing, as well as a pair of other ghouls. Not that she'd feel particularly guilty about putting a monster and some vamp-obsessed junkies at risk.

"Called in a lot of favours for this. I can't mess this up." Quinn mumbled to herself as she put her helmet on, fingers tapping along her shotgun. _Signal, breach, follow-up, signal, entry. That's all...just five steps..._

The sound of her phone's text alert met her ears, forcing her body to take in a heavy breath. _This is it..._

Quinn lifted her shotgun, aimed at the glass of the pub's entrance, and shot off a frag round, the cartridge sailing through the glass pane and exploding a fraction of a second later. "One...two...three..." She muttered as the pub in front of her erupted in a flash of fragmentation and shattered glass, sending a second and a third round off in quick succession at the end of her count. She pocketed her clip and swapped it out for regular round with one hand, sending her signal back to Monica with the other as she reached the door.

A swift kick knocked it open, revealing a disaster zone of shredded furniture, shattered bottles of booze, and wounded targets. She knew that her assault would hurt ghouls, but it'd only sting the shifter and any heavier duty targets like vampires. Thankfully, the sprinkler system kicked in, spraying her tank's dead man's blood all over the area and into the open wounds of her targets.

It'd debilitate for a little while, long enough for Quinn to leap the bar and tackle the rising shifter. He was strong, his knee nearly taking the wind out of her, but she managed to hit him with her taser before he could throw a second volley, his body shaking and falling unconscious from the voltage.

_Eight seconds..._ She thought to herself as she rose, firing off a quick series of shots at two slowly rising targets from the van. Quinn bounded the bar, seeing they weren't staying down, and swapped her shotgun for the two iron spikes on her belt.

That was the good thing about vampires. As strong as they were, their bodies weren't indestructible. Poke a few holes in them, and suddenly, there'd be a weakness to exploit. A little poison to sap their strength and mobility, as well as losing some of the blood they'd stolen, and they got a bit easier to handle.

Quinn was fast and methodical, slamming a spike into the nearest vampire. Usually, it was wood that she'd be staking them with, and the heaviness of iron took some practice to adjust to over the past few days, but it worked just the same, collapsing the monster on the spot. She'd have preferred to dust them outright with wood, but she needed intel.

The other vamp was a bloody mess, but stumbled aggressively towards her nonetheless. It took a half second to work through his trajectory and adjust, but his attack was too slow, too telegraphed for her to miss her mark, staking the second one handily. Far too often, they relied on supernatural ability, and when that got taken away, they were often easy pickings. It was clear that wherever these vamps were from, they weren't foot soldiers. Not often that some frag rounds would keep the usual vamp from getting in a lick or two.

Her eyes scanned the rest of the room as she reached for her pack, pulling a syringe free. Normally, she would have drugged the other ghouls, and killed off the shifter, but time wasn't on her side. Her father was gone overnight, but he'd be back in the morning, and she needed room to interrogate. She couldn't waste any time with routine cleanup.

She recognized two of the fallen ghouls as those she'd seen in the pub earlier, unrelated to her search. The third, a woman who was breathing heavily and slumped under a table, didn't put up a struggle as she injected the drug into her.

"Three for three. Time to move." Quinn noted openly as she scanned the room for any other serious dangers. She sent off a signal to her hunter friend to help extract the three targets, and get the hell out of dodge.

As she dragged one of the vamps out the busted up entrance, she couldn't help but feel a little unnerved at how easy it had been. She'd gone in thinking that maybe with the mayhem, there had been a blood hunt on the nomad, but there was no sign that the two vampires she encountered were strong enough to take out something like the one that had been feeding on western Ohio the past few months.

What they were was a question Quinn didn't have an answer for. Rachel spoke of some vampires acting as a clean-up crew to kill fledglings like her, which could be the case. Any well-fed vamp with minor combat ability could take out some weak, underfed whelps, after all. But the surveillance footage rarely showed them leaving the SUV, which had her thinking that they were there to watch.

_But watch for what?_ She wondered, grunting as she hauled the corpse into her van. All she could do was hope she'd find that out once they got back to the barn.

* * *

Santana had been parked outside the Berry house since quarter to seven, container of cookies in hand. At first, it'd been apprehension stopping her from leaving her car, suddenly unsure after a week's worth of psyching herself up as to how to handle the encounter. After all, she'd just made the cookies with Rachel, and she was going to them, offering a familiar gift to help with their grief when she'd just had the joy of Rachel's presence.

It was entirely unfair.

Then, she remembered how Quinn had been invited to share the burden, which kept Santana hidden in her car. While the utter shock and betrayal of Q's actions had faded a little, Santana still wasn't sure how to exist around Quinn, and she wasn't sure how Quinn would be with her, either. She just wanted her friend back, and for everything in the past to not have happened, but that was impossible; she couldn't just forget. She couldn't.

Yet, as the time neared seven, Santana found herself hoping more and more that Quinn would be there to help, even with their troubles. She needed all the strength to face the Berry men that she could muster.

But as the clock ticked to five past, ten past, quarter past, half past, Santana found her anger burning higher and higher inside her at her friend for leaving her alone to face this. Quinn knew, after all, that she would be doing this tonight, according to Rachel. If Q didn't show, that was a choice.

A choice to leave her hanging. Another betrayal. Another sign that maybe what they had was irreparable.

At seven thirty-four, Santana flung the car door open and marched out towards the Berry household. _This is such bullshit...how can she just leave me alone, after everything?_ Santana fumed as she reached the door and pressed the doorbell.

When the door opened, LeRoy Berry offered a confused smile before setting his sights on what was in her arms. The man's face fell, practically emanating pure woe, and reduced that fire inside of her to embers. _Is that what I have to look forward to whenever I'm reminded of Q? Have I already lost her?_

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, tears rushing forward into her eyes, Santana pushed the container of cookies into the man's arms. "Sorry...I...I'm sorry. I thought it'd be nice, but...just Merry Christmas, okay? Sorry." She stumbled out, before practically dashing back to her car, ignoring the man's calls.

As she shifted into drive and drove away, she knew she hadn't been ready for that. She wasn't ready to lose anyone else from her life. Whatever Q had done, wherever she was, she still needed the blonde. She needed to keep her in her life. How Q could fix what she did, those details would come later, but for now, she just needed to hold onto the hope that Q wasn't lost to her just yet.

* * *

In the dead of winter, with the crunch of dry, packed snow atop the dirt road, and the dead branches above, the way to her destination seemed a little more ominous. It wasn't often she got out to the barn, usually there wasn't a reason. Most vampires they came across got dusted, and that'd be that. Little reason to bring them, or anything, in alive.

She'd been to the barn four times, none of those experiences slippery or forgettable enough to not have scarred her mind, but she knew she'd have to pull from those tonight. Everything hung in the balance, and she needed something so that she could get her mother and Santana out from under the threat of her father.

As her van broke past the tree line into the field, she couldn't help but compare the old, dilapidated barn to an old castle. Honestly, it may as well have been, with all the herbs and runes and iron laced into the field to keep out intruders. Quinn slowed as she got up to the gate, stopping in front of the speaker.

It took nearly a minute before the device crackled to life. "And where might you be headed, child?"

"Late night delivery of feed for your horses and pigs. Heard you were running low in the barn, thought I'd stock you up." Quinn noted, slipping in the usual code words into her statement. It was an old gimmicky way of being indirect, one she didn't really feel was adequate or necessary, but she wasn't the one running the show. She didn't make the rules.

"Horses and pigs, you say? Yes, I'm sure we've got room enough. You all can head on in. Harriet will help you unload." The voice noted before the gate opened and the speaker went dead. Permission granted to enter the premises, Quinn took the slow trek down the narrow, winding path to the barn.

She drove onto the iron tracks leading into the barn, inching inside once an older woman slid open the doors. The inside was as dark as usual, though the lanterns lit it well enough for Quinn to advance onto the rune-clad second gateway and park the vehicle. She watched through her side mirror as the older woman advanced to a large crank and began operating it, slowly descending her vehicle and the platform it was on further into the ground.

Quinn had heard of other strongholds like this, certainly, but this was the only one she'd ever actually experienced, and it was definitely a place she wouldn't want to be were she an enemy to the cause. It was often said by local livestock farmers that there was always some killing to do around the barn, and this one was no exception to that. The only things that came in and left were humans, and even then, only some.

It took about eight minutes to get all the way down into the bunker, where she was met with the sight of an elderly woman and a slightly younger man. _This is it..._ Quinn thought as she unlocked the doors and got out of the vehicle.

"Delivery of vamps and ghouls...your father take a shine to you lately, child? He letting you run errands solo these days?" The elderly woman asked; Quinn could have sworn her name was Martha, but she wasn't about to assume. Unlikely they'd need to swap names, and she was certain they wouldn't deign to use hers during her stay. She'd always been 'child' to them, and likely would always be.

"My father's down in Cincinnati seeking audience with the Bishop. He's told me to chase leads and prove my worth. This was time-sensitive, and he had greater priorities, so I called in help from another hunter, and I'm here to interrogate. I take it there's a pit ready for me?" She asked, deciding to get her story out there as casual and directly as possible in hopes that it's satisfy them.

Truth was, her father and most of her family were out of town visiting the Bishop for Christmas Eve mass, but Russell wouldn't have allowed her to run a mission unsupervised, especially without being briefed on everything first. He would have rather returned to flog her and added extra punishment for disobeying him and him missing his audience, rather than let her feel she had autonomy to do anything on her own. Apparently women taking initiative was prideful, to him. He'd expected her to stay locked up at home for all Christmas Eve, but that just hadn't been in the cards for Quinn.

Thankfully, the woman nodded. "There is, child. What numbers are we looking at?"

"Two vampires, one ghoul." She answered with a shrug. "Vamps are stakes with iron, ghoul's tranquilized, but that could wear off soonish, so I made sure to chain it up."

"Lloyd'll help you set'em up, then. You know where the tools are." The woman stated before walking off back to the main control room, most likely.

It took some effort getting the three bodies set up in the pit she was provided; they had to hang the ghoul up with chains, which had her body straining from the effort of lifting the slightly conscious body long enough for the barn's caretaker to chain him up properly. At least they were able to set the vampires up properly in the pit, though, which was the most important. It was a small pit, but big enough for two.

Cutting away the vampire's stolen bodies' arms and legs' flesh down to the bone to properly attach the iron restraints was always a bit of a gruesome task, but the humanity had long since left those bodies. They were just evil corpses, and while desecrating the dead was wrong, doing so to purify them was a worthy task.

At least, she'd always been taught it was.

With the vampires laid down and chained to the bottom of the iron pit, submerged in a shallow pool of dead man's blood, there was nothing they'd do that could harm anyone again. No matter the ethics involved, at least that truth held.

Quinn waited for Lloyd to take his leave before approaching the collection of tools she'd assembled. While vampiric abilities varied pretty widely, ghouls were more predictable. Increased strength and speed, minor regeneration, mildly heightened senses; occasionally, there'd be another benefit or two that needed to be considered, like blood bonds strong enough for the vampiric sire to psychically track their ghouls, but that was a lot rarer. Given where she was, even something like that wouldn't be an issue.

Feeling a little industrious, Quinn grabbed a skinning knife and a heavy pipe wrench, sparing a glance at the ghoul when the tainted woman groaned in pain. "It's good you're awake. I didn't want to have to do anything drastic to wake you." She noted as she crossed the room over to the hanging enemy. "How are you feeling?"

"Where am I?" The ghoul let out sluggishly, dull eyes scanning the room and growing wider by the second. "Oh god, where am I?!"

"Some call it the end of the line. Others, the slaughterhouse. Most just call it the barn." Quinn stated, poking the hanging body's ribs with her wrench. "On the bright side, you're not clamped down in a pool of dead man's blood like your friends."

"Oh god...oh god, you have no idea what you're doing. Do you even know who they are? Where they're from?" The ghoul asked, and thankfully, Quinn had done enough espionage in the past days to have a good guess at that. Control was important, and the key was to appear to be in control, to be as near to omniscient as possible.

"Chicago, I presume, on orders from the monarchy." Quinn let out as casually and dismissively as she could manage with a flick of her wrench-holding wrist. "Believe me, I'm well aware of why you're all in the area. Do you think you'd be here if I thought you were some random straggler's ghoul? Please, don't insult my intelligence."

"You've practically signed your death certificate, doing this. You know that, right?" The ghoul asked, a predictable question that had Quinn pivoting her hips as she swung the wrench into the ghoul's ribs, unleashing a strangled cry.

"I think I'll take my chances. See, I hunt parasites like you and your companions all the time, I have for most of my life. If you actually think you're going to scare me, you're only going to waste your time trying." Quinn stated plainly before lifting up both of her weapons towards the wheezing ghoul. "Here's how this will go. You're going to tell me what I want to know. You behave, and I won't flay your skin and let that precious vamp blood drain out of you faster than it otherwise would. The wrench can hurt you, but it'll be internal bleeding...at least you'll suffer while still feeling your master flowing through your veins."

"What? You...you're going to beat me no matter what? Why should I even talk?" The ghoul cried, and Quinn could suppose that was a fair enough concern. Especially given that the ghoul didn't seem to be so deep in the blood bond that it wasn't capable of some level of complex thought.

"Because I haven't decided if you'll live or die yet. The others, sure, but you might be salvageable. And as a Christian, I do love helping save those in need." She answered calmly, offering a smile up to her prisoner. "Now, are you going to be a good little ghoul, or am I going to have to play butcher for the next few hours?"

The ghoul's dull blues darted around the room again, a sense of panic blurring her sunken eyes. "You...you can't just torture me, or...or kill me! I'm a human being! The police will find me, if the vampires won't, they will!"

Quinn let out a laugh. "Please. There's nothing strange about an axe or skinning knife with bloodstains in the barn. Not hard to hold you here until the ground's soft enough for digging. Woods are sparse enough around here that next to no one has reason to visit them...and they and the local critters won't tell what sleeps beneath the trees. But please, feel free to call my bluff."

The ghoul hesitated for one moment, perhaps two, before sagging against her restraints. "How are you so cavalier about...about any of this? You can't be more than eighteen. You're just a kid."

Quinn gave the ghoul a curious glance as she traced the flat of the skinning knife down the woman's torso. "I learned early on that, for some, murder's the only door through which they enter life. But don't value yourself so highly...right now, as you are, you're more a pest in need of extinguishing than a human being. So why don't we begin seeing how much humanity's left in you, shall we?"

At that, Quinn lifted the wrench and swung down hard at the side of the ghoul's knee.

* * *

"Please...please, stop..." The ghoul muttered through a mouthful of blood, head dipping more and more as blood drained from the woman's flayed leg. She hadn't been on her best behaviour across the past two hours, and all that supernatural regeneration was slowing, to the point where the ghoul's life was starting to slip. It was already hard enough to keep the thing awake after crushing both of her legs with the wrench and then a hammer.

"I told you, I need a name. You've been helpful, but I need a name, Amy." She stated as casually as she could, not letting her fatigue seep into her voice or posture.

With vampires it was a lot less strenuous. You'd cut off flesh and limbs while they were bathed in their poison, and wait for them to nearly dry out from blood loss. Then, when they neared the edge, you'd feed them again, wait for them to regenerate enough, and do it all over again since they'd never re-gen fast enough to keep from the poison entering their system. With vampires it was simple butchery and patience, given their weakened states wouldn't provide them strength enough to escape or use their abilities.

Ghouls were closer to human, and needed a more humane approach, given their lack of relative durability. Which meant more effort, and more fatigue in interrogations.

Still, their discussion had borne some fruit. The monarchy in Chicago had sent teams to surveil the vampire rampaging over western Ohio, teams aided by the local vamp leadership from Columbus apparently, who the ghoul was bonded to.

However, she didn't have the names of either the local vampires in Columbus, or the vampire who had terrorized their area. In order to get anything out of the vampires later on, she had to have some of that information. Vampires were notoriously difficult to interrogate, and rarely offered anything up, so she'd need all the help she could get.

"I can't...please..." The ghoul cried, letting out a harsh sob as Quinn dug her knife into the flesh of the woman's previously unharmed leg. "Please! I can't, I can't!"

"Of course you can, sweetheart. You're a strong woman, more than capable of speaking a few syllables. Then it'll all be over, I promise. Get you all patched up and good as new." Quinn offered with a smile, hoping to take advantage of the sheer exhaustion and agony etched across the ghoul's face.

The glimmer of hope that flashed in the ghoul's eyes was a sign of victory. As long as it could take to break them, ghouls were selfish, if not by nature, then by conditioning. Push them hard enough, and any incentive could be a good enough one to get them to spill.

"How...how do I know I can trust you?" The ghoul asked tiredly, spitting out a good amount of blood onto the floor in front of her.

"I may have hurt you, Amy, but I haven't lied to you. I have virtues guiding me...vampires might need blood to do it, but my word is my bond. Tell me what I want to know, and this ends. You get patched up, you recover, and if you work hard enough, you'll be free to go." Quinn promised, and it was true enough. She didn't have much of anything else to learn from the ghoul, so there was no harm in providing a light at the end of the tunnel.

A light that would come part and parcel with some serious mental reconditioning to flush the vampire's influence from her, and probably turn her into an asset, but still, a light nonetheless. It'd likely be months before the woman would potentially be able to regain her freedom, but it was a better fate than death. Not all hunters in her sect were like her father, after all.

Though, failure to adapt would certainly result in death, so there was that.

The ghoul panted heavily, but Quinn could eventually discern something of a nod from the slumped figure. "Can't tell you...my sire. Blood oath. But I'll tell you of the others."

Quinn couldn't help but feel disappointed, but some intel was better than none, and it could take weeks to break past such an oath, if it wasn't fatal. "I'm listening, take your time."

"Chicago...announced a blood hunt. Leadership changed...the old prince got ousted, but survived. Escaped. Still the Chicago monarchy's territory here, so locals are expected to comply...we've been watching...but a blood witch from Columbus has been covering his tracks." The ghoul offered, and Quinn couldn't help but smile at the details, even if they were still too vague.

"Names, Amy, I need names." Quinn stated softly, smiling up at the hanging woman. She only had a limited window of time to get what she needed to get done, and she really couldn't afford much of a delay.

"Corinne D'Anjou...the blood witch. The former prince...Isaac Morrisson. Don't know what he did, just know he's powerful. The blood witch needs him." The ghoul added, letting Quinn return to the worktable and lay down her tools.

_A blood witch and a former prince...crap, that's heavy firepower peddling in creating vampire fledglings at random. But...but Chicago's probably going to be more concerned with catching the exile and the witch than retribution against hunters for killing some scouts._ Quinn thought to herself as a plan came to mind. _I...think I know how to get my mom and San free of my dad, so long as I execute everything just right..._

"Thank you, Amy. You've been a huge help for me, tonight." Quinn stated as she picked up her walkie-talkie and opened a channel to the local caretaker. "Hey, Lloyd? I've got a live one for you to handle."

Quinn listened for confirmation before filing a syringe with a sedative and approaching the ghoul. "I'm going to put you to sleep, and when you wake up, you'll be recovering, okay?" She asked, drawing a relieved nod from the ghoul. "Sleep tight." Quinn added as she poked the needle into the woman's thigh and slowly injected her with the serum.

It was barely half a minute before the ghoul was out like a light, leaving Quinn with seven hours to get what she could from the vampires.

With any luck, she'd squeeze a bit more information out of them before she had to leave. Even if she couldn't, though, she had enough to start an escape plan. That, in itself, was exactly the major victory she'd been hoping for.

She'd have Santana and her mom safe soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a long time coming. The two scenes I had planned for after this shifted around and changed so greatly that I decided to cut them from this chapter and give myself a fresh start, since they were making finding a satisfying chapter ending sort of impossible.
> 
> This one's a bit short, but the next one's sure to be longer, and we'll be seeing some direct interaction between all our girls, so there's that. This chapter was, thematically and in parts of the dialogue, influenced by Tom Waits' 'Murder in the Red Barn', which I thought fit the atmosphere of the rural hunter stronghold Quinn took the trio to.
> 
> Anywho, I hope you enjoyed, and that it wasn't too brutal. I cut most of the torture out and jumped to the end, tossing in the findings all pretty much in one go. It seemed a bit distasteful and kind of brutal to let that portion play out longer than I did here in this version. I wanted to show how mean and twisted some of the hunter life could be, to give a bit of a window for viewers to understand why Quinn's done what she's done, and why she'll do what she's going to do.
> 
> So yeah, hopefully I can get more out soon!


End file.
